


Controlling Fate

by Zendelai



Series: Landon Shepard [3]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Background Jack/James Vega, Control Ending, F/M, Indoctrination Theory, Minor EDI/Jeff "Joker" Moreau, Post-Mass Effect 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-05 09:17:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 50,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1813201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zendelai/pseuds/Zendelai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in death, Shepard's decisions affect the galaxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Detritus of War

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my interpretation of the events after Mass Effect 3 if Shepard chose the Control ending. A big thank you to Bioware, of course, for the creation of this amazing universe and characters. I'd also like to thank missmeggo for being my beta, and to everyone who reads and supports my work. My update schedule will be more erratic than usual, but expect weekly updates. Enjoy!

_You did good, son._

_I'm proud of you._

_I'm_

* * *

Major Coats woke with a start, sitting up quickly in his cot, his only memory of his dream a flash of blinding blue light. He distractedly ran his fingers through his cropped hair, trying to recall more details before they slipped out of his mind like sand running through his fingers.

Was Admiral Anderson there? And Commander Shepard?

_Feels like so long since I just sat down._

He was surprised when he ran his forearm over his forehead and it came back wet with sweat. The dream was so vivid at the time, but now it was almost entirely forgotten. With a sigh of resignation, he threw his legs over the side of the cot and opened his omni-tool to check the time.

"Shit," he growled. It was 0820 hours already: his meeting with Admiral Hackett started in ten minutes, and he was half an hour away from the temporary Alliance headquarters. Skipping changing his socks, he slid his feet into his boots, threw aside the sheet he had thrown up as a privacy screen, and began to speed walk through the makeshift camp towards HQ.

The camp was a fucking disaster, to put it mildly. It was one of many scattered across London, and it was part hospital, part distribution centre, and part sleeping quarters. Quarians, turians, salarians, krogan, and humans were working in unison - at least for the moment - in an attempt to begin search and rescue operations for those lost, provide medical treatment for those injured, and beds and food for the few that were able-bodied. The place reeked of excrement, death, and desolation, but they were  _alive_ , which was more than could have been said of their fate a week prior.

When the camp's occupants began to thin out, he broke into a light jog to speed up the process to HQ. Not that it helped much: the ground was so covered in rubble and dead bodies it was more of a hike than a run.

Billions dead. Yet he was here, alive, drawing breath, and doing everything he could to help.

It would have been what Monica wanted.

His pregnant wife and their daughter, Julia, had been killed during the first attack on Vancouver. At the time, Anderson had sent Coats on a scouting mission in the Traverse. Part of him wished he had been with Monica and Julia in Vancouver that day. He would have never had to learn of their deaths, he would have never had to witness the horrors of the Reaper War. But if he was dead, he would have never helped Commander Shepard coordinate the attacks on what civilians were beginning to call "S-Day", and he wouldn't be rebuilding Earth today.

He wanted a coffee. He wanted a cigarette even more. But luxuries such as those would be hard to come by for the foreseeable future, so he settled for chewing on his last piece of mint gum.

He slowed to a walk when he reached the doors of the British Library. The guards stationed at the doors saluted him and allowed him to enter without question.

Their lack of suspicion concerned him. The exact nature of the Reaper defeat had yet to be determined: they had retreated, but they had not been outright destroyed. They could be amassing for a second attack at this moment; comms were limited, so it was impossible to ascertain where the enemy forces had retreated to. Who was to say they didn't still have indoctrinated agents?

Dozens of Alliance soldiers milled around the library, their expressions weary and their arms filled with stacks of paperwork. He glanced into a meeting room and spotted Dalatrass Linron speaking with Primarch Victus; it was clear that the Dalatrass was frustrated as she threw her arms up in the air and raised her voice at the turian, who appeared nonplussed by her agitation. Coats climbed a flight of stairs and finally reached Hackett's temporary office.

He swung the door open and saluted smartly as it clicked shut behind him before clasping his hands behind his back in a parade stance. Hackett was seated at an oak desk with papers piled so high that Coats could only see him from the neck up.

"I apologize for my lateness, Admiral."

"It was easier when we had transports to take us across town instead of just our feet." He gestured towards a plush pair of chairs in front of the desk. "Please, sit."

Coats obliged. The Admiral seemed to have put away some of his formalities, at least for the moment.

"We have two matters to discuss today, Major. First, the Charon Relay." Hackett input a command into his terminal, pulling up a live feed of the relay. He turned the monitor so Coats could also see it.

As soon as Coats saw what was happening to the Sol System's relay, he let out an audible curse and his hands balled into fists at his side.

Reapers, a dozen of them, were massed around the relay.

"We can't say with any degree of certainty what their plan is, but I have a few hypotheses. When Shepard activated the Crucible, he could have damaged them extensively and forced a retreat. However, that wouldn't explain why they're staying in our system, unless the relays were damaged in the blast. They also could be attempting a new style of warfare where they cut us off from the other systems, and hence reinforcement and supplies. Why they would do that considering the success of their full-frontal assault is inexplicable." Hackett took a moment to smooth the creases on the front of his uniform. "My most optimistic guess is that somehow Shepard managed to use the Crucible to rewrite their code, rendering them helpless."

Coats idly scratched at his cheek; he hadn't had access to an omni-razor in a week, and a beard - with a few more greys than he was comfortable with - had begun to sprout across his face. "Do we have any more information at all?"

Hackett solemnly shook his head. "The only way that we can get more information is to get a ship out there. We barely have any able-bodied men or ships prepared for travel, but finding out the nature of their actions is absolutely vital."

"Where are the other Reapers?"

"We don't know. We have no way of knowing. All of our other monitors were shut down in the blast - frankly, it's a miracle this one is still in operation - and all of our comms are down. We might as well use two tin cans connected with a string at this point."

"This mission sounds suicidal."

Hackett pinched between his eyes as another headache threatened to start. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, not in the wake of the potential destruction of the galaxy, but his headaches had been increasing in severity and frequency over the last six months. He feared that he would succumb to the same ailment which had claimed his father: brain cancer.

He would not allow himself to go down in a hospital bed, surrounded by apologetic family members and nurses with pitied expressions. When Steven Hackett leaves this world, it will be an honourable death for humanity.

"That's why I'm volunteering myself," Hackett said. "I won't ask anyone else to do such a risky mission." He stood and began to pace, his fingers laced behind his back. "I'll be taking a small crew of dedicated soldiers with me, just enough to run the ship. We only need to get a visual on the Reapers, so we'll attempt to stay out of striking range, but I'll have a live feed going to headquarters so any information we gather will not be lost, regardless of the outcome of my ship. We'll be taking something small and stealthy, although we all know that stealth systems never stopped the Reapers."

Stopping behind his desk to rest his hands on the edge, he let out a short sigh. "That brings me to my second point. Admiral Anderson and Commander Shepard have both been declared MIA. They were both on the Citadel at the time of Crucible activation, and you and I have seen the wreckage. They'll be classified as KIA within two weeks. Considering that my upcoming mission is likely one way, we will be short two more Admirals at a time when we need strong leadership figures."

"Admiral-"

He held up his palm to silence Coats. "Difficult times call for difficult measures. I want you to fill Anderson's position when it opens up. I don't expect my expedition to depart for another three weeks, so we'll be promoting you as soon as he's declared KIA."

Coats stared at Hackett, his mouth agape. This was insane. Hackett, the leader of the Alliance, the man required to spearhead humanity into a brighter future in lieu of the Reaper war, was sending himself on a suicide mission? Even more strange, he wanted to promote Coats to a position of leadership, entirely passing the position of Rear Admiral? Had they truly lost that many high ranking officers during S-Day? "Admiral, what's the sitrep on our Fleets?"

Hackett's normally stoic demeanor momentarily faltered, and Coats watched his shoulders slump and his eyes darken. "We lost half of the First Fleet during battle, and another ten percent sacrificed themselves so the remainder could retreat. The entire Second and Fourth Fleets were wiped out. We lost about a third of the Third and Fifth Fleets during the retreat. The Sixth and Seventh Fleets weren't engaged by the Reapers so they remained largely intact, and we lost about eighty percent of the Eighth Fleet."

"My God," Coats whispered. "We lost half of the entire fleet."

"You can see why my need for a replacement Admiral is so dire."

"I'll accept, of course." Coats knew he would be a fool not to. "But I have one condition."

"Which is?"

"My first mission will be to scout the relay."

Even in the face of deviance, Hackett's stoic demeanor did not waver. "Why?"

"You're needed here, Admiral. A hell of a lot more than I am. You can rally the people and bring them together to start a brighter future for humanity. That's something no other Admiral - or person, for that matter - will be able to do. If we send you on a suicide mission, we might as well give up on humanity."

Hackett slowly sunk into his chair, the weight of his people weighing heavily on his shoulders. "I don't have a family anymore," Coats continued. "They were lost during the initial attack on Vancouver. All I have now is my people, and I'll do whatever it takes to protect them, including sending myself into the fire."

Hackett rubbed his chin in thought. It appeared he and Coats were at an equal standing: the only thing they had left was their duty, and they would do that duty, regardless of the cost. He didn't want to save himself, but he did want to oversee humanity's restoration if the opportunity presented itself. The thought of the potential cancer still lingered in the back of his mind, but he had a chance to achieve so much before sickness rendered him helpless. "I'll set my own conditions. Effective immediately, you're promoted to the rank of Rear Admiral. Departing in three weeks, you'll take the SSV _Alamance_ to investigate the Charon Relay. You'll take a crew of my choosing. When you return, you'll be promoted to Admiral." He turned to face the window, gazing out on the city. The majority of the buildings had been reduced to rubble and ash; the library was the largest intact building, which was why it had been designated as Headquarters. Rain began to fall from the slate clouds in large drops, a warning of a storm to come. Although he desired to see the sun, so long covered by the darkness that came with the Reapers, he desired even more to see the rain wash away the detritus of war.

"One more matter before you're dismissed, Rear Admiral." Coats couldn't help but start at the new title; he had become accustomed to Major Coats, and as with every promotion so far it would take some time to adjust to Rear Admiral Coats. "Off the record, I'd like to request that you bring a friend of mine with you on your mission. Consider him to be an adviser."

"Who is it, sir?"

Out of the shadows stepped a man Coats knew only by reputation; he sported heavy armour and had a Viper sniper rifle strapped to his back. Like Coats, he hadn't had access to an omni-razor in some time and his cheeks and chin were covered in gray grizzle, and his one blue eye glinted in the office's lighting. Zaeed Massani growled, "I heard he's an expert on suicide missions."


	2. Pear-Shaped

_When Joker entered the cockpit of the_ Normandy,  _an area so familiar to him that it had become more like home than Tiptree, he found Shepard perched in his pilot's chair. His knees were drawn to his chest and his expression was vacant. The Commander had left the shutters open and the stars reflected in his pupils as they flashed by them too quickly to focus on one. A long-forgotten mug of instant coffee was resting on the chair's arm._

_"Morning, Commander." He tried and failed to keep the confusion out of his tone as he limped to EDI's usual chair._

_"We need to have a talk, Joker." In his usual style, Shepard got straight to business. No beating around the bush, especially when they were all about to put their lives on the line - again - when they landed on Earth in a few hours._

_"I'm all ears." He took a sip of his instant coffee. It was almost entirely water, and he sincerely regretted not putting in more sugar. As the war progressed, luxuries such as coffee had become harder and harder to come by._

_Shepard let out a long sigh, taking a sip of his coffee and recoiling when he realized that it was ice cold. When he rested his mug on the floor before sitting upright, running his bottom lip through his teeth, Joker realized that he was stalling._

_"No one has any idea what the hell is going to happen when we get down there," Shepard began, his eyes remaining on the stars overhead. "But chances are it's not going to end well, for some or all of us. Knowing that... if - or when - things go pear-shaped, I need you to take the_ Normandy _and whoever's on it and get her the hell away from Earth. We have no idea what we're walking into, but it'll give me some peace of mind to know that at least some of my crew will make it out alive."_

_"Commander-"_

_Shepard's hard gaze fixed on Joker, waiting for the argument. But instead Joker fell silent, choosing to give the Commander his peace of mind for the moment. When the time came, Joker knew that he would do what was right, and that was to make sure that everyone made it home in one piece, the Commander included. It had become apparent over the weeks that Shepard had decreasing faith that he would live through today's battle._

_"Yes, Commander. I'll do what I can."_

_"Good to hear. I knew I could trust you." He grabbed his mug and stood, grasping Joker's shoulder firmly before turning to exit the cockpit._

_"One question, Commander?"_

_"Yes?"_

_Joker swallowed his pride. "Will EDI be on the ground with you today?"_

_"Not today," Shepard replied without pause. "I'll have her nearby feeding me reports. She's too valuable to put her directly in the fire."_

_Joker nodded, wordlessly, and took his chair back with some weariness lifted off his shoulders._

_Her safety wasn't guaranteed, but her chances were looking better._

 

* * *

 

 

Joker regained consciousness with a splitting headache. From his peripheral vision he could see the red warning light flashing, but no sirens were going off and the engine was silent. They must have landed, more or less intact. He sat up slowly, adjusting his off-kilter hat, and when he opened his eyes he was greeted by a throb from his head. The crash must have caused a minor concussion, and he vowed to visit the med bay.

That was until he saw EDI's form slumped over her console.

"EDI!" He cried. Panic ran like a jolt of adrenaline through his body, freezing his muscles so that when he attempted to stand to reach her he fell over his chair onto the floor.

"I am here, Jeff." Her voice did not emanate from her mobile platform, but through the ship's speakers, as it had in the days of working under Cerberus. "My mobile platform has sustained damage and requires repair."

"You scared the shit out of me," he grumbled, leaning on his hands to hoist himself up to his feet. "I'm going to check on the crew and grab Garrus to take a look at you."

"I will wait here," she responded.

With an exasperated sigh Joker began to stumble through the ship, his head throbbing with each step. Most of the crew members he passed appeared alive but mildly injured, grumbling their displeasure at headaches similar to his own and a few broken bones. The ship had been damaged - crates had fallen and scattered their contents over the floor, lights were flickering feebly, Shepard's console at the CIC had toppled over - but to what extent he could not ascertain until EDI ran her diagnostics. He reached the elevator and rode it to the crew deck, making a beeline for the med bay.

When he entered, the piercing gazes of Doctor Chakwas and Kaidan lifted from an occupied bed and briefly found him before returning to the patient. He hobbled over to the bed and saw Tali, sound asleep, with a gaping hole in her suit above her right knee.

"Doc, Kaidan." He greeted them both with curt nods. "She going to be alright?"

He noticed that Kaidan was holding one of her hands, running his thumb over hers. "Physically, yes," he answered carefully. He let out a long breath and ran his other hand through his hair. "But she doesn't know that we left Shepard behind."

Joker swallowed the bile in his throat. He had kept his promise to Shepard - when the Crucible activated, he had managed to save the crew and the ground team - but they had to leave Shepard on the Citadel. Otherwise, they would have all died for nothing.

_We need to go, Joker,_ Kaidan had said to him. Although it had been difficult to hear, Joker knew that he was right.

The weight of his Commander's life had rested on his shoulders. He shifted uncomfortably at the thought, his eyes fixed on Tali's visor. How would she react when she found out that they had left her love behind?

"She went unconscious shortly after Shepard sent her and Garrus back onto the ship," Chakwas explained. "She managed to seal off her suit, so we won't have to worry about a blood infection, but we're keeping her sedated for now just to be safe."

Joker nodded slowly, and Kaidan's gaze found his. "Don't worry. You don't have to tell her. I will."

"It was my decision as well as yours. Shepard asked me to save the crew when the time was right, so I did."

"He asked me for the same thing. Although this is the last thing we all want to think about, I'm the highest-ranking Alliance officer on the ship, so I'm technically in command until we get ourselves back in order. That means that I'm taking responsibility for the crew's decisions, as well as my own."

"You're the boss," Joker mumbled in acquiescence. "Everyone else alright?"

"Only minor injuries so far," Chakwas answered. "But I'll need to perform full examinations on all crew members to ensure there are no signs of internal injuries."

Kaidan piped in, "I'll get the memo out that everyone requires a mandatory physical within the next 72 hours."

"Thank you, Major."

"Anyone seen Garrus?" Joker inquired. "EDI's platform is having some issues after the crash."

"Check the battery," Kaidan suggested, a faint smile ghosting across his weary features.

"Thanks, Major, never would have thought of that one myself. Mind giving me some painkillers before I go, Doc? I have a headache that could stop a rampaging bull."

Chakwas nodded curtly, rifling through her cupboard to find the appropriate injector before inserting it in Joker's forearm and tossing the injector in the trash receptacle.

On his way out the door, he said, "If Garrus comes around, tell him I'm looking for him."

When Joker reached the main battery, it was empty. He tried Liara's office, but the door was locked and she gently requested privacy. The Port observation deck and Life Support were empty, and the lounge only held a few crew members who were trying desperately to get in touch with family down on Earth. He finally found Garrus in the Starboard Observation Deck, but he was quickly under the impression that he was invading an intensely private ritual.

Garrus sat on Samara's old couch, gazing at the unknown planet they had landed on. The shelves surrounding him had released their contents during the landing and were scattered at his feet. On the table before him, Shepard's hamster Burt was running in small circles, letting out an occasional squeak. Although Joker could not see his expression, he could read Garrus's defeat in his slumped shoulders and clenched fists. Brushing aside the debris, he took a seat on the couch beside Garrus, watching the greenery flutter in the gentle breeze outside of the ship. The sky was a shade of blue he hadn't seen since the days before the Reapers, and it struck him how truly over the war was.

"You did the right thing," Garrus said. "You did what you had to. No one doubts that."

Joker remained silent. Was Garrus right? Had he done the right thing, abandoning the Commander to save everyone else? If they had stayed, could the Commander have survived? They all saw the explosion. Denial was bound to run through everyone's minds - Shepard had come back from the dead before, after all, who was to say that he wouldn't do it again? The first time Shepard died, it had been Joker's fault for being so damn stubborn. Could he live with himself, knowing that the second time was his fault again?

He clenched his fists and hung his head low, fighting the tears that threatened to break down his barriers. He needed to be strong now. They all did. For Shepard.

"It's my fault too," Garrus muttered. "I should have gone to the beam with him. I wasn't hurt like Tali. I could have done it. But like you, I followed orders. And now we're here, and Shepard's... Spirits, none of us know."

Joker couldn't deny the fact that he wasn't the only one with the weight of Shepard on his shoulders. Garrus and Tali had left him, and Kaidan had made the call too. It was a reminder that he didn't have to carry the burden alone, and they had to stick together through whatever the hell happened from here.

"Do you think Shepard's really gone?" Joker whispered, angrily brushing away the wetness in his eyes with his forearm.

"He's fooled us before. Here's to hoping he can fool us again." Shepard's hamster attempted a suicidal leap off the table, but Garrus smoothly caught him in one hand and plopped him back on the table, earning an indignant squeak.

"Too bad we already took down Cerberus. Sure could use those guys again."

"It would be nice to get some target practice," Garrus drawled.

"I know it's a bit of a bad time, but EDI's body is out of commission. Think you could take a look at it?"

Garrus stood quickly, scooped up Burt and dropped him in a pocket of his armour. The distraction from his thoughts would be welcome. "Let's go."

Joker followed Garrus out of Life Support. Watching his wide shoulders emphasized by his heavy armour, he could see how at one time Garrus seemed intimidating to him. Now, however, he was a trusted friend who Joker knew would only hurt those who deserved it.

He just had to make sure he never  _would_ deserve it.

The pair stopped in the main battery to grab Garrus's tool kit before returning to the cockpit. Joker took his familiar seat and began to run diagnostics on the  _Normandy_  while Garrus ran his omni-tool over EDI's body.

"Fried circuit board." He opened his tool kit and removed a small screwdriver kit and a soldering iron. "Shouldn't be a tough fix. What are the onboard diagnostic reads?"

Joker lifted the brim of his hat to scratch his head as he watched the numbers fly past him. "I don't know how, but absolutely everything is fried. We have no comms, no nav system, and we're running on reserve power. Looks like EDI's isn't the only circuit board that got fried."

Garrus opened the latch on the back of EDI's neck, revealing her main control board. With steady hands and eyes narrowed in focus, he began to solder the broken connections. "EDI," he said, "what are our rations at? Both dextro and levo?"

"If we ration, we have enough levo rations for the crew for three weeks and enough dextro rations for four."

"You think you could start running some more in-depth diagnostics on the other systems? See what we'll need to get ourselves limped to the nearest mass relay?"

"Yes, Doctor Vakarian. I will have results within the hour."

"Thank you, Ms. EDI."

Joker rolled his eyes. "Listen you two, just because Garrus gets to put his hands all over you doesn't mean that you can get cutesy nicknames for each other."

Garrus raised a brow plate at Joker. "Jealous?"

"Never. Just don't like seeing other hands - talons - on my woman."

"You can fix her, if you'd like."

"Just... forget I said anything."

Garrus's subvocals hummed in victory, a sound which Joker didn't pick up on. He cared about both Joker and EDI, and he was pleased when they found each other, circumstances notwithstanding. Synthetic or organic, EDI was the first person to make Joker truly smile in the time that Garrus had known him, and although he didn't entirely understand her range of feelings he knew that she cared about him deeply too.

He had also been pleased when Shepard and Tali started to show a mutual interest. They were both like siblings to him, and they found love when they both needed it the most. Although Tali was unconscious in the med bay now, he knew she would be devastated when she finds out about leaving Shepard on the Citadel. She had proven to be inexorably strong in the face of adversity over the years, but breaking a love as deep as that which existed between her and Shepard was bound to shatter her.

He would have to do what he had always done best: be there for support, watching her six as he had watched Shepard's over the years. It was the least he could do.

Completing the job of repairing EDI's circuit board, he closed the latch and leaned back to crack his spine. "All set to go, EDI. Fire up the platform."

With a flicker of orange her visor flashed into life and she sat up quickly. "Thank you, Garrus. I would like to take this platform outside to perform an initial scan of the area, if that would be agreeable."

With a groan, Joker pulled himself out of his chair. "Always dragging the cripple out for walks."

"If he won't go with you, EDI, I gladly will," Garrus chimed in.

"No! I'll go!" Joker's comment was too hasty to be natural.

In passing, Joker spared a glance at his seat as they made their way off his ship, and out of the corner of his eye he could have sworn that he saw Shepard in the seat again, his knees pulled up to his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to MissMeggo for being a wonderful beta, and thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos!


	3. Come Back to Me

_Shepard and Tali were on a boat heading straight towards the eye of the storm. Knowing this, they chose to embrace in their last moments before the tide attempted to sweep them away._

_She trembled as she stood before him; not in fear of the inevitable storm, but for the fear of peeling away the layers of herself to expose the woman beneath the mask and the suit. For the years away from the flotilla, the mask had become both a comfort and a burden: it hid her eyes, the betrayer of her true intentions, but as a result she was unable to open a door into her emotions to any outsiders. Now that Shepard was knocking at the door, she suddenly feared opening it._

_In her time with Shepard, he had shown his occasional inability to exercise patience. Yet when Tali paused to take a series of calming breaths, he did nothing but smile encouragingly. When her trembling hand reached for the latches to remove her mask, he grasped them to steady them while speaking in a low voice. "Only do this if you're ready."_

_As he rested a calloused palm on the side of her mask, she knew that their ship may toss and turn, it may attempt to capsize, but in the end he was her anchor. "I am ready."_

_With a hiss, the clasps released and her mask was thrown haphazardly to the floor._

—

_The air in Shepard's lungs rushed out when, for the first time, he met Tali's uncovered eyes._

_In spite of the lack of facial expressions for him to read, he had grown accustomed to reading her intentions through the fluctuations in her voice and through her body language. Now she was entirely exposed before him, and every hidden emotion was apparent in her bright eyes: her respect bordering on reverence, her loyalty, her fear, her adoration, her love. He felt in that moment that her love for him was so strong that it overflowed, and his need to have her — every part of her — overwhelmed him until his knees almost buckled. He needed to open himself to her the way that she had done for him, he needed to return the love that he now knew that he felt for her._

_Her hand ghosted up to touch her face. "Do you… not like it?"_

_He hadn't realized the prolonged silence until she broke it, and it pulled him out of his reverie. He swallowed the lump in his throat and touched her cheek, sighing at the softness of her skin. "You're absolutely perfect," he muttered thickly._

_Together they pulled away their carefully constructed layers, revealing the love buried deep within._

* * *

A thumb brushed against hers in slow strokes, but the human gesture was not comforting in its firmness and pressure like Shepard's; rather, it was gentle and inhibited, a friend and not a lover. Kaidan, perhaps? Why him and not Shepard? Why did her entire body feel numb and unresponsive, and her mind foggy? Why was there a dull ache in her leg?

She remembered bidding Shepard goodbye before stumbling onto the  _Normandy_ , using Garrus as her support prior to her collapse in the cargo bay.

_Come back to me._

That was her last memory, before she settled into a dream - a memory, so vivid it felt real, of the first time she had removed her mask for Shepard. Her stomach twisted as she remembered that she had left him, alone, down on Earth. He needed her, and she had left him. He had insisted that she go to safety, but that was just his way: put himself in danger to save her. Her fists involuntarily clenched as she thought of the last glimpse that she had of his face, determination setting fire to his eyes.

_I have a home._

"You awake, Tali?" Kaidan's voice drifted through the fog to reach her, and she felt his hand squeeze hers. Tears unbidden sprung into her eyes at the confirmation that it was not Shepard at her side. That meant that he was either gravely injured, or absent.

"Yes," she grumbled. She opened her eyes to reveal that she was in the med bay; to her dismay, the lights were dimmed and the room was empty, spare herself and Kaidan. Utter silence filled the room; the  _Normandy's_ engines were offline. She attempted to sit up, but a dizzy spell forced her back onto the bed.

"Easy there, Doctor Chakwas has you on a whole cocktail of painkillers. How do you feel?"

"Foggy. Where's Shepard?"

Kaidan winced. He should have known that Tali would get straight to the question that he didn't want to answer. He inhaled deeply, readying himself for the fallout from her reaction. "After you and Garrus boarded the ship, we waited in the wings for Shepard. We found out from Hackett that he had boarded the Citadel and he activated the Crucible. We don't know exactly what happened from there, but the Citadel... exploded." He heard Tali suck in a ragged breath, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. The rest of his words couldn't come out fast enough. "There was a sort of blue wave of energy that chased us away from the system, so Joker took us to the Charon relay and plotted an uncharted jump. We crash landed on this planet, our nav and comms are down so we don't know exactly where we are but it has to be either in the Arcturus Stream, the Viper Nebula, the Exodus Cluster, or the Caleston Rift. There's a small chance we ended up in the Serpent Nebula, but since the Citadel is the only object in the system with the mass relay-"

"We left Shepard behind." Her interruption was monotone, and he watched her eyes flicker up to the ceiling. So gently it was almost unnoticeable she pulled her hand out of his and crossed her hands on her stomach.

"We had to."

"Did we really." It was a statement, not a question.

"Tali, we all regret what happened to Shepard. But he spoke to Joker and I before we landed on Earth, and he made it known that the crew coming out alive - that you coming out alive - was what was most important to him."

She audibly swallowed. "Part of me knew he wasn't coming back," she said thickly, "But that doesn't make it any easier to accept."

"We thought this would be a one-way trip for all of us. In Shepard's eyes, this would be considered a success."

"Are we sure he's..." Her lips were unable to form the remainder of her question, and it hung in the air, becoming the elephant in the room.

Kaidan responded with false reassurance. "We won't be sure until we get to Earth."

"And the Reapers?"

"We can't say anything for certain, but we haven't seen any on this planet, which is a start. That wave of energy likely knocked them out, or at least did a good bit of damage."

"May I be alone?" Tali asked quietly.

"Of course," Kaidan softly replied. "I'll be right outside if you need anything."

As soon as the door closed behind him, Tali rolled into a ball on her side and collapsed into ragged sobs that racked through her whole body and made her throat ache. She wept until the fog carried her back under into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

As he promised, Kaidan waited outside the medbay for Tali. Undoubtedly she needed the time to let it all out; Kaidan had a similar experience just after he regained consciousness. However, duty called, and he could no longer let the despair overtake him. Although the  _Normandy_ would always be Shepard's, for the sake of the team, he had to temporarily step into a leadership position.

They had three weeks to get the  _Normandy_  space worthy before their rations ran out, and they needed a plan.

All external comms were down, but he could still use EDI to send short range inter-ship memos; so he pulled up his omni-tool and sent a message to the whole crew, scheduling a ship wide meeting the next morning at 0700 hours. That would give everyone a chance to stitch up their wounds in the medbay, get some much-needed rest, and set aside the worst of their grief so they would be ready for hard work.

Growing up, he had always dreamed of one day having a ship to call his own and a crew to command. Knowing what it cost to obtain the objects of his desire left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He loved Shepard. He could have loved Shepard as more than a commander and a friend if he hadn't seen the way that Shepard looked at Tali. If Shepard asked him to instigate a fight with a krogan in a bar, he would have picked the biggest. If Shepard asked him to sacrifice himself to save the rest of the crew, he would have done it without a second thought. Shepard inspired that sort of loyalty and dedication with all of his crew members. For Kaidan, it could have been his infallible confidence in his ability to get the job done, regardless of the cost. Some were inspired by his dedication to the Alliance and the Spectres, as well as the cause. Others believed in the way that he would take no guff with strangers, yet he treated his friends and crew members like family, letting them into his heart as they let him into theirs. Conversation with Shepard flowed like a wide river as he opened himself up to you, bit by bit. With Kaidan, they had first bonded over the realization that they were both Sentinels, a rare breed, and L2s, an even more rare breed.

God, he had made such an ass of himself on Horizon. At the time, he was so hurt that Shepard had become so special to him that he had been inconsolable for weeks after learning of his death, yet Shepard couldn't make the effort to find him. And Cerberus.  _Cerberus_. The group that left a wake of mutilated corpses wherever they went.

Then again, Shepard had always been good at turning a blind eye to the most vile of acts.

But now was not the time to bring up old grievances. As much as he wanted to deny it, Shepard was likely dead. Now was a time to mourn, and to bring up the best memories of the commander who had changed his life for the better. And to honour him, he would be the best damn commander he could be - even if it was just temporary.

* * *

James woke long before the sun. He had always been an early riser, getting in his workout and a hearty breakfast before most people had even gotten dressed. Last night, however, his dream of his date with Jack was lifelike in its vividness. He resented the Reapers for nipping that romance in the bud.

He stood in the mess hall, today's smoothie staring back at him. As their resources dwindled, he had to first lose the yogurt, then the frozen berries, then the milk, then the juice. Now, his morning energy consisted of a blend of a dried egg yolk, a scoop of protein powder, and a container of nutrient paste. It tasted like a krogan's asshole... Not that he had been going around and tasting krogan assholes or anything.

He bounced on the spot to pump himself up before downing the smoothie in one long chug, coughing and dry heaving when the smoothie disappeared down his throat. He immediately turned to head up the elevator and exit the ship, desperate for his first chance at real fresh air.

The climate on the planet was almost intolerably humid and hot, but as he jogged a wide perimeter around the ship he began to enjoy the sweat that beaded on his skin, pulling the remnants of the war out of his body.

However, he wasn't just working out for the sake of routine; the battle for Earth may have ended, but there was no way to know if the war was truly over. This crash landing could be nothing but the last gasp of breath before diving into the pool.

He stopped when he found an appropriately sturdy looking tree branch to begin his chin-ups and pull-ups (150 of each). His breath gained a steady momentum as he worked, focusing his mind on the familiar ache developing in his muscles. Years of hard work had taught him that pain meant success, and the more pain you were in the better your results would be the next day.

A shot rang out in the distance and he stopped, dangling from the tree with his legs crossed above the ground. When he heard the sound again he dropped to the ground, branches and leaves crackling under foot, to investigate the source.

The trees grew more and more dense as he pushed through them, tiny thorny bushes on the ground threatening to break the skin on his bare legs. Another shot reverberated through the trees, sending a group of blackbirds into the sky with a series of dismayed cries. The air began to take on a salty smell, and he guessed that he was nearing water.

Light broke through the trees before him and he emerged into a small clearing on a cliff's edge, overlooking a winding river. He could faintly hear the rapids pushing against the rocks. Tali stood in the centre of the clearing, her shotgun aimed at the other side of the river.

"Tali?" he said gently, as to not surprise the grieving, shotgun-wielding quarian.

"James!" she gasped, immediately holstering her gun. "What are you doing out here?"

"Morning workout. What are  _you_ doing out here?"

She rubbed her hands together nervously. Although she had grown to trust James during the months they had served together on the SR-2, the trust didn't reach far enough to warrant her opening up to him. "Just... taking a walk around the planet. See what it has to offer. Want to walk back to the ship with me?"

He raised a curious brow at her obvious lie, but he knew that keeping her company would serve her better than leaving her alone. "Sounds great. We have that meeting in an hour, anyways."

"Right." She spared one last glance at the river, memorizing the spot before turning away. She had a restless sleep that night, her mind a movie reel of images of Shepard, and when she woke up at the small hours of the morning she craved the comfort of fresh air. Even if she couldn't feel it on her skin, she enjoyed the sights and smells the outdoors had to offer. During her exploration she had stumbled on this cliff, and it reminded her so much of the cliff on Rannoch where she and Shepard had stood after destroying the Reaper and saving the quarian people at the cost of the geth. The recollection of their happy times together was like a jagged blade ripping through her heart.

"How ya holding up?" James asked, sounding like he was skirting through a minefield.

"As well as you can imagine. Part of me wants to rush back to Earth in the small chance that Shepard is still alive, but we know the chances of that are slim. If it wasn't for our limited rations, I'd almost want to stay here."

James rested his fists on his hips. "At least we picked a good place to land, tropical paradise and all."

"My suit coolers are working over time."

A comfortable silence followed while the pushed aside the brush in search of the  _Normandy_. "Do you really think Shepard's alive?"

After a long pause, Tali responded, "No. But I need to cling onto the hope, because Shepard's the only thing I've got."

James clapped her on the shoulder and squeezed. "He's not the only thing you've got. You have all of us, too."

Her lips pursed, she nodded firmly. Even if she lost her lover, she still had her  _Normandy_ family.

* * *

Kaidan grasped the edge of the table with both hands, his mug of tea steaming on the desk before him. It felt wrong, so wrong, being the one about to give orders, but they all needed him now. His eyes flickered across the crew in the conference room with him. Javik looked distinctly unimpressed while James bounced on the spot, eager to do whatever was needed of him. EDI was, as usual, calm and collected, hands laced behind her back. Joker leaned against the table for support, gazing off into the distance, while Tali was almost unreadable. Garrus made adjustments on his omni-tool, his brow plates set into a furrow, and Cortez seemed prepared for anything, a tool bag propped at his feet and a steaming mug clasped in his hands. Liara appeared morose and slightly lost whereas Traynor was perched at the table with a terminal, ready to take notes.

"Good morning everyone and thanks for coming," he began, the steady drumming of Traynor's typing punctuating his speech. "I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone for their great work down on Earth, and to remind you all that even though Shepard cannot be with us today, he will always be in our hearts, and we need to get ourselves back to Earth for him." A murmur of agreement travelled through the group. "Alright, time to get to business.

"We have enough levo supplies to cover us for three weeks, if we ration. Since Tali and Garrus are the only dextros, they have enough supplies for four weeks. So we need to get this ship space worthy in that time.

"EDI has run some basic diagnostics, and our biggest problem right now is that we have no power because of the damage to the coupling in the power core. No power means no comms, no nav, and most importantly, no movement." He saw Joker exchange a grim smile with EDI. "We also have a hole portside that's about the size of a volus and a series of other external damage from the landing. Normally if we just replaced the coupling we'd be in the air in two days, but we don't have access to one. We need our best tech people and engineers on that coupling performing repairs, but due to how extensive the damage is we'd still be pushing three weeks if every person on the ship was working on it." He gripped the table firmly, channeling his frustration at the ship's lack of power.

"What I'd like to propose is that we have a team dedicated to recon on the planet as well as the search for food," he continued. "Although the coupling is our main problem, it's created a trickle-down effect to a series of other problems that I'm not the best person to describe. But we're basically looking at a lot of blown fuses, burnt out circuits, and broken connectors."

He began to pace in front of the group, his eyes meeting those whom he assigned duties to. He couldn't help the stir of pride to see them all listen to him with a rapt attentiveness. "I'd like Tali and EDI to be on scouting duty with a team of crew members. EDI will be able to scan everything planet side, and Tali will be able to identify potential dextro food sources and possibly find us parts out there in case there's any other civilization or even downed ships. Garrus, Gabby, Ken, Greg, and anyone else you may need are assigned to coupling duty. Traynor and Liara, I need you to get nav systems back up, and Joker and Cortez will be assigned to comms. James, Javik, and myself will be working on the external damage.

"I know that we've all been through a lot, but we're going to need to work hard and work together if we have any hope of getting out of here alive. Everyone will have a mandatory 10 hours daily of down time, as well as a 1-hour break midday to receive your rations. We copacetic?"

Everyone began to nod their acquiescence. "Good. We all have jobs, let's get to them."

As the crew left the room, murmuring amongst each other, he drank the last of his tea and rested his mug on the table.

They had a long few weeks ahead of them, but Kaidan had faith in all of them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to MissMeggo for being a fantastic beta! And thank you to everyone who's been reading thus far!


	4. Grey Skies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to send a big thank you to my beta, MissMeggo, who has vastly improved the quality of my work. A special thank you also goes out to mynameiscloud over on tumblr (cfs on here), who created beautiful cover art for this work, which you can now find as my avatar!

_Jacob dashed into cover beside Gunnery Chief Shepard, his breath coming in rapid gasps._

_"What's the sitrep?" Shepard asked._

_Jacob shook his head slowly. "I don't like it, Chief. A dozen batarians against just the three of us and one of them is on the high ground with a rocket launcher. We don't even have a sniper to take him out, and the rest of them are nestled into cover."_

_Shepard's lips pursed. "Don't worry, we've got those ugly bastards." He poked his head up from cover to quickly identify the locations of the hostiles, ducking under just in time while a bullet whizzed over his head. The second subordinate in the group, Private Wells, rolled into cover beside them. Luckily he was uninjured, but sweat poured down face beneath the weight of his heavy armour and he was clearly winded._

_"Listen up, Privates. We can't take them down with firepower alone, so we need to flank them. Taylor, I'm going to need you to pull up a barrier and hit them from the left. There are two of them in the same cover spot so get close enough that you can take them out with your shotgun, and from there you should be able to pull the guy hiding behind those crates. Wells, use your assault rifle and hit them from the right. The second your shield is down, boost it to get it back up. I'm going to go to the high ground to use Sabotage on that hostile with the launcher. On my mark."_

_Wells took the last gulp of his water and nodded. "Let's do it, Chief."_

_Shepard stuck just the top of his head over the cover so he could scan the area. When he saw the batarian with the rocket launcher turn away, he pointed in the respective directions and made a dash for the stairs._

_Chaos ensued. Jacob threw up his barrier just in time before a rain of bullets came from an enemy SMG, bouncing harmlessly off his barriers. He shot the first batarian in the head with his shotgun, sending each of his eyes flying in different directions, and then smacked the second in the forehead with the butt of his gun, his body crumpling like an accordion onto the floor. He dove into the nearest cover, catching a glimpse of Wells taking out two batarians on his own. He mustered a powerful pull, knocking two batarians out of cover and towards Wells, who shot them both down._

_Shepard, however, had not been as lucky; a vanguard batarian had chased him up the stairs and he was locked into a duel with him, his bullets unable to penetrate the enemy's barriers before more shots came his way. As he was distracted, the rocketeer sent a shot straight towards Wells. He dove into cover but it was too late; the rocket hit his legs and blew his lower body into pieces. He let out a cry of agony that dissolved into gargles before he collapsed, dead._

_Jacob let out a battle cry and shot the batarian nearest to him in the kneecaps, pulling another to send him cascading haphazardly through the air, knocking him unconscious when he hit a concrete pillar. Shepard had managed to use Warp to take down his first combatant and then Sabotage on the rocketeer, rendering him helpless as his body was riddled with bullets._

_With a bang Jacob's shields went down from a shot in the back. Another bang and pain, sudden and blinding, exploded in Jacob's left side, sending him tumbling face first into the floor. The batarian that had shot him rolled him over with his boot before hovering over him, a sick smile crossing his features. The batarian raised his pistol to Jacob's face and suddenly he was out of Jacob's line of vision, thrown back by Shepard, who had sprinted towards him at full speed before tackling him on the ground. His teeth bared ferociously, Shepard brought his rifle down on the batarian's face three times until it was an unrecognizable pulp and his body stopped its final twitches._

_Shepard stood, his armour bloodied, and he dashed to Jacob's side._

_"Wells..."_

_"I know." Shepard's voice had grown ragged. The adrenaline had kicked in for Jacob, and his mind was filled with incomprehensible thoughts and a blinding fog. Meanwhile, Shepard pulled up his omni-tool and hailed their vessel. "_ Tsushima  _this is Gunnery Chief Shepard. I have one wounded soldier and one soldier KIA. Batarian reinforcements are moving in, I need backup. I repeat, I need backup!"_

_Jacob's breath had become ragged and he clutched at the wound. The blood was draining from his face and his skin was becoming ashen. "Jacob!" Shepard cried out. Strong arms grasped Jacob's shoulders and behind his knees and lifted him into the air. As Shepard jogged out of the compound with Jacob in his arms, he succumbed to the blackness._

* * *

_"I have never met a soldier quite like you, Shepard." Jacob held up his beer bottle, wincing at the sharp pain in his side from the movement. Shepard's bottle touched Jacob's with a clink, and they both drank deeply._

_A gunshot wound - especially one that pierced your liver - was no laughing matter. Shepard managed to return them both to safety, but Jacob had lost two pints of blood and had to go into emergency surgery. After a week in recovery, he attempted to pay off a portion of his life debt to Shepard by buying him a beer on a breezy patio._

_"I owe you one," Jacob continued, "And a Taylor always pays their debts."_

_Shepard pointed the mouth of his bottle at Jacob. "I won't forget that promise."_

_"You deserve the promotion, Chief. Or should I say Lieutenant?" He let out a low chuckle. "It's just too bad you're moving on to another ship. I'll miss serving under you."_

_"You're a good soldier too, Jacob. I have a feeling this won't be the last beer that we share."_

_"I sure as hell hope it's not."_

* * *

The skies of London were grey again today. Just as they had been grey the day before, and grey the day before that. It had managed to rain a week prior, making the sky black instead of grey, but even after the rain ceased the sun did not make an appearance.

Jacob had grown tired of the rain. He had grown up in sunny Miami, Florida, where the weather was either hot and brutally humid or hot and dry. There were the occasional thunderstorms, but they often came and went quickly, leaving destruction of trees and power lines in their wake. But whenever he heard that first rumble of a storm, or felt the first oversized drops of rain before the skies opened and poured on him, he always smiled. The rains would wash away the cloying humidity that glued skin to fabric and brought a respite for the plants that shriveled and grew brown in the dry season. And after the rain, there was always the sun.

Not since before the battle of London had he seen the sun. It had become so elusive that he forgot what it was like to feel the rays warm up his skin, to hear the birds leave the safety of their nests to herald the day... to feel that any happiness still existed in a galaxy so beaten and broken.

Being on Earth during that battle had its advantages: he had been able to help directly, and he had been able to see exactly how the tide turned. He had watched as a blue burst of energy emanated from the Crucible, and he had watched as the Reaper forces had retreated. It also meant that, with almost all off-planet communications down, he had no way to contact Brynn and catch a glimpse of her growing stomach.

Brynn had put in a great effort to convince him to name their son Shepard. However, he had been young once: he knew that with a name like that the boy would be teased to self-consciousness. When he had proposed they name him Landon - Shepard's rarely used first name - she had agreed that it was an equal tribute and they had settled on it. Brynn was expected to give birth to their son, Landon David Taylor, in three months. Three months that felt too long while he worked towards Earth's restoration.

He arrived at his site for the day: it had once been an apartment complex, but now it was nothing but chunks of rock and heavy concrete dust. He put on the mask to cover his face and began loading the rubble into the nearby truck, which transported all waste materials to a plant-in-progress to be processed so they could be reused.

He was a strong man, but lifting heavy chunks of concrete was no easy task, and in spite of the cool air he was quickly lathered in sweat. Three hours in, with arms the consistency of jello and protesting quads, he took his lunch break. He had picked up his daily rations from the distribution center that morning: a nutrient bar and dried mangoes (breakfast), a pre-made ham sandwich (lunch), a can of beef stew (dinner), and three bottles of water. As a biotic with high calorie requirements, the rations were minimal, but his previous position on Shepard's squad gave him a certain degree of prestige, and the folks at the distribution center often slipped him an extra nutrient bar or sandwich. He grabbed his bag with the sandwich and water bottle and went to the other side of the complex to get a half an hour of peace and quiet before he returned to work.

London was unrecognizable. The vast majority of the buildings had been reduced to nothing but rubble, burying the streets and the foliage. The heart of the city had been hit the worst, but he knew the suburbs barely fared better; most houses had been crushed, and refugees were coming into the city by the truckload daily, searching for any food, water, or shelter. The war had obliterated the class system, and now the rich shared tents with the poor, and the middle class were giving their spare bottles of water to the upper class.

The apocalypse sure had a way of bringing people together.

He was about to take a large bite out of his sandwich when a sight before him made his heart stop.

It was a Banshee.

Every limb froze, fear gripping him knowing that any miniscule movement could alert her - it - to his presence. It was less than 20 feet away from him, crossing from east to west. Why there was one here, alive and roaming the streets, was absolutely beyond him, but it struck fear deep into his heart. The war wasn't over yet. The Reapers had retreated, but they had not been vanquished. He needed to notify Hackett immediately, but in order to do that, he had to survive.

Subconsciously, his hand drifted down to his hip holster. His hand froze, palm open, when he realized what an idiot he was. His trusty Carnifex was sitting in the footlocker at the camp right now, and he was completely unarmed.

The banshee turned to face him, a leering grin on its face, turning his bowels to water and sucking the air out of his lungs. Experience eliminated fear, but he had watched many men succumb to horrible deaths at the hands of these creatures. He was fucked and he knew it.

He wanted so desperately to see Brynn again, to give her one last kiss, to run his hands over her growing stomach, to hold her while sleep took them. He wanted to meet Landon David Taylor, hold his tiny feet in his hands and feel his soft skin. He wanted to have more children, get a dog (a German Shepard or a golden retriever, the perfect family dog), maybe even a cat, and find a quiet home to spend the rest of his days with his beautiful family.

He expected to hear the cry, the blood-curdling scream, which preceded a banshee attack. She raised her left hand and...

She  _waved._

It wasn't the sort of wave you expected from a psychopath before she rips you into pieces. It was the sort of wave that was exchanged between friends, a quick hand movement from side to side. After it waved, it turned and continued on its path.

Once it passed, his entire body went from rigid to loose and he let out a long exhale. Although he was incredibly relieved, he was also incredibly confused: where had it come from? Why had it ignored him? Where was it going? What did the wave mean? Could he have imagined the entire experience? PTSD was common, especially in times like these. The entire thing could have been created by his overtaxed mind. It made more sense than the possibility of a non-hostile Reaper.

He grabbed his lunch bag in a tight fist and stood. For his own sanity, he was taking the rest of the day off.


	5. Full Circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience and I apologize that this chapter took so long! I've been getting into Dragon Age 2 for the first time and it's occupying my mind/spare time. A big thank you to everyone who has read my work, and as always, thanks to missmeggo for being an amazing beta!

"Cross your fingers, Sam, this should do the trick."

"Thank God, I think my back is about to cramp up."

Liara closed her eyes and sent a brief prayer to the Goddess that re-routing the nav system to bypass the CIC would work, since the entire wiring system for the CIC was fried.

It had been over a week filled with little beyond trial and error work, limited (and tasteless) rations, and restless nights filled with evocative dreams. Liara woke every morning bathed in a lather of sweat, but no power also meant no running water. She had only been able to bathe once, three days ago, in a creek found by Tali and EDI. Each dream seemed to widen the proverbial hole which had opened in her heart with the loss of Shepard.

Traynor, who was currently lying on her back beneath Joker's console, grumbled in an irritated voice, "Still waiting here, Liara."

"Sorry." She flicked the switch, and gave a gasp of relief when, piece by piece, the nav system came back on. "By the Goddess! Sam, you genius, we did it!"

Samantha pulled herself up from lying down and engulfed Liara in a hug. She swung herself into Joker's seat and input a command to pull up their current location. Sam rested her hands on the back of the chair, peering over Liara's shoulder.

"This can't be right," Liara muttered, gazing at the screen with her mouth wide. She re-input the command, but the same result was returned to her. "This really can't be right."

"What is it?"

"We're in the Exodus Cluster, Utopia System."

"What planet?"

Liara spun to face Sam. "Eden Prime."

Sam threw her head back and laughed heartily at the ceiling. "You're joking."

"I'm not. We're on Eden Prime. The other side of the planet from the old colony, mind you, but Eden Prime nonetheless."

"It's funny how things work out. I'll see how far it is to the nearest mass relay; do you want to tell Kaidan the news?"

"Gladly."

Liara gave the chair up to Sam and made her way outside to where Javik, James, and Kaidan were using scrap metal that Tali and EDI had procured to patch up a series of small holes underneath the ship.

So far Kaidan had done an excellent job of coordinating the repair efforts, but she still missed Shepard with her whole heart. That man had given her a better life and made her a stronger person, and she felt unfulfilled and lost without his now familiar presence.

When she first met him, it was instant infatuation. He was handsome, with his dark hair, bright eyes, and strong jaw line. He exuded a determination and confidence she found in few others. She couldn't resist his charms and the way he would lean casually on any object in the vicinity, flash a crooked smile at her, and wink. He had that way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room, and he had her wrapped around his finger. They joined the night before Eden Prime, and it had been the most beautiful moment of her life.

When he died over Alchera, she was crushed; when Cerberus offered the chance to bring him back to life, it only made sense to hand him over to them. But after the pain of his loss, she made a vow to herself that she would never again be so naive to give herself entirely to a person, to forget who she was and what she stood for. She was her own woman, with a mind bright enough to secure a promising future, and she wouldn't take that for granted.

As promised by Cerberus, Shepard came back alive. A little bitter, broken, and scarred, but alive nonetheless. The way that he looked at her had changed; the confident swagger had diminished, replaced by a battle-hardened weariness. Death had changed him and his goals. It had also changed the way he looked at Tali. The young quarian on her Pilgrimage had matured to a strong woman, commanding her own subordinates and carrying out her own missions.

Together the three of them had taken down the Shadow Broker, and she had been eager for an opportunity for some insight into his mind set after death. She missed the comfort he had offered her, but the young and infatuated youth had been replaced by a strong and determined woman, shaped by the loss of the man she cared for so deeply. So when he offered the branch of friendship, she accepted it gratefully.

Thanks to Shepard, her life had developed a future beyond hunting through the past. She thrived as the Shadow Broker, jumping out of bed each morning with an eagerness to succeed and do good for the galaxy.

Now he was gone, and her network was gone, and her only goal was getting this Goddess-forsaken ship in the air so she could determine where to go from here. She didn't know what path the future held, but she knew she had to take a path where she could help those who had been devastated by the Reapers.

"Liara," Kaidan greeted upon her approach.

"Kaidan, I have news."

"Good news, I hope?"

"Great news, actually. The nav systems are up. We're on Eden Prime."

The wrench in Kaidan's hand dropped to the ground with a dull thud before he burst into a laugh more hearty and rich than Liara had heard from him since before the Reapers. "So the universe brings everything full circle."

* * *

Coats stood in a parade stance on the bridge, his grey eyes narrowed, his right hand gripped too tightly around his left.

Only ten minutes away from a relay visual. And a good chance he was fifteen minutes away from the end of his life.

He was a man who too easily buried himself in regrets. Regrets that he spent too much time with the Alliance, that he didn't tell his family that he loved them enough, that on more than a few occasions he had succumbed to the siren's song of alcohol and cigarettes. Now was a time to stow away the regrets and stand proud knowing the difference he was about to make for the galaxy.

Loud footfalls notified him of Zaeed's entry. The aging mercenary fell in step beside him, crossing his arms and wearing his too-familiar scowl. Their eyes met in sideways glances, grey on bright blue, before they simultaneously watched the stars pass as they neared the relay.

Although this trip was brief - four hours to the relay at FTL speed - Zaeed had proven to be a valuable accomplice. Knowing that he had served under Shepard meant that the realization wasn't a surprise, but his mercenary reputation had preceded him. He still couldn't ascertain why Hackett ensured that Massani had joined him on the trip, but subordination meant complacency and he had no reason to complain.

"Two minutes out," the co-pilot announced, her voice wavering in fear.

"Remember everyone, now is a time to be brave." Beside Coats, Zaeed shifted his weight to his other foot. "Whatever we see at that relay, the galaxy needs to see it, too. Be brave in the face of adversity and we  _will_  ensure that humanity will find a way to take down these bastards, once and for all."

"Let's all be bloody heroes," Zaeed growled. His calm in the face of the raging storm was almost unnerving; not once did he betray any emotion other than appearing slightly pissed off. A man who had seen as much as him had little to fear.

Coats was afraid; not of death, but of failure. Whether they lived or died, as long as they succeeded, they were heroes. That mattered to him a hell of a lot more than the need to make it back to the wreck that once was Earth.

Coats opened up a comm channel to Earth. "Admiral Hackett, this is Rear Admiral Coats. Do you read me?"

"Loud and clear, Rear Admiral."

"Opening up the live feed now."

He heard the copilot's swallow over the loudspeaker. "Stealth systems engaged. Now departing FTL speed."

Coats squeezed his hands together and closed his eyes. When he reopened them, all that was before him were Sovereign-class Reapers.

"Bloody hell," Zaeed muttered. Coats nodded in agreement, unable to form words.

Coats had faced hundreds of Reaper ground troops and even several Destroyers on the ground before. But nothing came close to the might of the Capital Ships. Between their two kilometer length and laser that could cut through an Alliance dreadnought like butter, they were an enemy of nightmare proportions.

"Have they spotted us yet?" he asked the pilot.

"No, sir. But..." The pilot's quavering fingers flew over his interface. "Wait. We're coming up on their radar. Assume defensive position!"

The ship burst into life. Crew members bustled across the ship, shields were put up, and weapons were prepared. Crewmen cried out to each other, fear evident in their wide eyes and shaking voices.

Zaeed was the only person on the ship who appeared distinctly unperturbed by the Reaper presence. With slow steps and ponderous eyes he approached the viewing window. "Wait a goddamn second." He spun on his heel to face Coats. "I know Reapers, and I know that if we're already on their radar, we should be fried by now."

Coats's brow set into a deep furrow. "Could Hackett be right? Did Shepard disable them, or even turn them on our side?"

"Pilot!" Zaeed snapped. "Take us in for a closer look."

"Are you mad, sir? They'll destroy us!"

"If they wanted to destroy us they would have done it by now. Do it, pilot!"

The pilot spun to face Coats, trepidation clear on his face. Coats sent him an affirming nod, and with unsteady hands the pilot sent them closer to the enemy.

Even as they approached, the Reapers stayed stationary.

"Look at this." Zaeed pointed to a Reaper situated near the mass effect core in the relay. "Watch its arms. The bloody Reapers are repairing the relay."

"My God," Coats whispered, leaning as close to the viewing window as possible. "Hackett, are you seeing this?"

The Admiral's voice crackled through the comm. "We see everything, Rear Admiral. I can't say what the Reapers' current motivation is, but consider them non-hostile."

Coats felt a sudden rush of emotion so strong that his throat closed up and his eyes welled up. "Non-hostile Reapers," he whispered, "I never thought I would see the day." He turned to face Zaeed; even the tough mercenary was rendered speechless.

"Come on home, boys," declared Hackett. "Today, you're heroes."

* * *

_Shepard had searched for silence, but now that he had it he wished for noise. Any distraction would be welcome to provide him a brief respite from his thoughts which quickly spiraled out of control._

_The amber liquid in his highball glass called his name. It promised forgetfulness, lucidity, a dreamless sleep. He took a long sip, cringing as it burned his throat; the cheap shit tasted like gasoline. But it didn't help; the faces of Ashley and Wrex were still ingrained into his mind, the two lives he had made the call to end today._

_He hadn't gone into the cargo hold yet. He didn't have the guts to exit the elevator and no longer be greeted by Ashley's dutiful salute or Wrex's guttural grumble of 'Shepard'. He wasn't ready to go through their lockers and return to their families their meager possessions, along with the letters he had to craft citing their illustrious deeds._

_Stars spotted across his vision when he pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. When he reopened them, the darkness of the mess hall was broken by two white lights: the eyes of Tali, analyzing him through her mask._

_"Shepard." She spoke in a low voice, her tone speaking volumes. She was normally bright and cheery, even in the face of desolation. Today, however, it was clear she had succumbed to the despair accompanied with two losses._

_"Hey Tali." His voice was scratchy and rough from the liquor burning his throat._

_She hovered, lost, before grabbing an identical highball glass and a glass of dextro liquor (Garrus's, perhaps? Shepard had never seen her drink). She swung into the seat across from him and poured two fingers with trembling hands. Shepard topped up his own and held up his glass. Their eyes met as their glasses clinked and they both finished their drinks, Tali shaking and turning her head away in disgust._

_"Why did you do it?" Tali asked._

_His stomach dropped to his feet, and all potential responses to her question fled from his mind._

_"I understand you had to make a choice between Kaidan and Ashley. It wasn't easy, I know. But Wrex…" Her eyes lifted to search for his, but she found them trained on his glass. "You could have tried to talk him out of it. Keelah, I've seen you talk a crazed biotic out of killing a politician, why couldn't you talk a friend out of killing you?"_

_Through gritted teeth, he grumbled, "I tried to talk to him. He had a shotgun aimed at me; I was a little low on options."_

_"Wrex was my friend. He would have listened to reason, I know he would have."_

_His eyes flew up to look straight through her. "The moment he aimed his gun at me, all trust between us was lost. Even if I had talked him out of it, I could have never gone on another mission with him without watching my back. I would have been risking all of your lives having an untrustworthy crew member on the ship where you sleep every night."_

_He saw her eyes shake as they filled with tears. "I still trusted him. He always watched my back in the field. I also know he always watched yours."_

_A switch went off in Shepard's head. He had beat himself up about the decision, why did he have to justify himself to Tali too? "I'm the commander," he snapped, "And it was my decision. I'm the one who has to live with it, not you!"_

_Tears flowed freely down Tali's face. "You're right. I have no reason to question you."_

_The switch suddenly flipped the other way, and Shepard was overburdened with grief. Denial wouldn't make her any less right. "I'm sorry." His head fell forward into his hands and he felt the unfamiliar sting of tears in the corners of his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I killed two of your friends today, and I could have saved at least one of them. I'm so fucking sorry."_

_She stood from her seat and approached him to crouch beside him. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and she felt his body shudder underneath her touch. "I'm sorry to Wrex and Ashley for sacrificing them for this war, and I'm sorry to Garrus, Kaidan, Liara, and you. I let you all down." He began to weep in earnest, in a way he hadn't wept in years, his eyes and throat burning as the tears cascaded down his face and he gasped for breath._

_Without warning Tali grasped him around the shoulders and pulled him in for a tight hug. Together, they shared their grief._

_"I miss them," Tali said thickly._

_"I miss them too."_

* * *

It had been two and a half weeks since the  _Normandy_ crash landed on Eden Prime, and so far they had only been able to get their nav systems up. Things were starting to look dire as their supply cache dwindled. As a result, Kaidan had sent Tali and EDI on a two-day scouting trip to an old outpost forty miles from the ship.

Tali was very grateful to Kaidan for two reasons. The first, for giving her a mission where she spent long periods of time away from the ship and the memories of Shepard. The second, for sending EDI as her companion since the AI was comfortable with long stretches of silence.

She did her best to avoid any reminder of Shepard, hoping that it would repel the dreams, but they still appeared faithfully every night. Every morning she would wake exhausted, bathed in sweat and tears, until her suit evacuated the excess moisture. She never wanted to forget Shepard, but the dreams felt like a promise dangling just outside of her grasp.

"Praise the Enkindlers!"

Tali nearly jumped out of her suit at EDI's unexpected proclamation. "You worship Javik?" she asked skeptically.

"With our current assignment, my processors have an unusually large amount of idle runtime. In order to better understand organics, I am using that idle processing power to research the primary religions of each sentient organic species." EDI laced her fingers behind her back, her gaze reaching up to the blue skies. "I will then choose the religion I find most suitable for my own beliefs."

"Not all organics are religious."

EDI smiled at Tali faintly. "No, they are not. But they do all have beliefs, whether in a God or a lack thereof. A belief in a God can assist in providing moral guidance, and-"

EDI stopped suddenly, and held her hand out in front of Tali to stop her as well.

"Oh my God," EDI whispered, at the same time that Tali hissed, "Keelah."

Tali's legs grew weak and her heart pounded in her throat. She grasped EDI to keep herself from collapsing as the implications of what she saw hit her like a bullet train.

A Reaper Destroyer was a mile away, moving across the surface of the planet in slow strides, its red optical sensor scanning the area in wide, sweeping gestures.

Like relentless waves, she realized the consequences: the Reapers were still alive. Shepard had failed. All their efforts had been for nothing. Shepard had died for nothing.

She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around herself, collapsing in a weak and weeping ball. But before she allowed herself to succumb to that, the rest of the crew deserved to know of their fate, if they could escape without the Reaper finding them.

Tali took two tentative steps back, her eyes locked on the machine that would bring down organics. "We need to go back to the ship. Tell Kaidan what we saw."

"Wait. I am performing a scan."

Tali retreated two steps further. "Why? We're dead as soon as it sees us."

EDI blinked rapidly as her scan completed. "It does see us. It is identifying us as friendly."

Tali seethed at EDI's matter-of-fact tone, and the AI's assurances did not placate her. "EDI, I don't care if it serves us dinner, I don't trust a Reaper. Now, please, can we leave?"

The Destroyer did a quarter turn so it was facing them, head on, its optical sensor shining bright red as it locked in on the pair.

"Oh, Keelah..."

A flat wave of red light scanned over their exact position, and Tali waited for the red horn that would signal that the end of her life had come.

At least she would be reunited with Shepard.

She closed her eyes and winced, waiting for the flash of light before the end. She would rejoin her father, her mother, and the countless citizens in the flotilla that had given their lives during the war. She would again see her old friends Ashley and Wrex... she even looked forward to seeing Legion again, that bosh'tet.

But the flash of light never came; the Ancestors did not take her. When she slowly opened her eyes, the Reaper had begun to head in the opposite direction.

"I believe now would be an appropriate time to report our findings to Kaidan."

"What a tactful way to say 'I told you so'."


	6. A Violation

_Steve sat alone at Eternity, his third beer bottle down to the flat dregs. Humanity had reached the pinnacle of desperation as a species, yet they still wasted so much of their credits and time on a few hours of forgetfulness provided by alcohol._

_For years, he only considered himself a social drinker - what was the joy in drinking until you vomit? - but with Robert's loss, he began to take pleasure in allowing things to grow a little fuzzy, a little numb._

_"This seat taken?"_

_The sound of his Commander's voice brought a smile to his face. "Please, join me."_

_Shepard nodded at Cortez's beer. "I've never heard of that brand before. What's it like?"_

_"Franziskaner Hefe Weiss." He attempted - and failed - to properly pronounce the German. "Only the best wheat beer coming out of Earth."_

_Shepard waved to the turian bartender, gesturing for two beers. He paid for it before Steve could blink. "You sound like quite the beer connoisseur."_

_"Snob... connoisseur... same thing." Steve chuckled lightly. "On our shore leaves, Robert and I would try out all the microbreweries in the area, searching for the best beer in the galaxy. We never had time to find the perfect one, but this is about as close as it gets."_

_A fresh bottle was placed before him, and he and Shepard clinked the necks of their bottles together. Shepard took a long drink, finishing almost half the bottle, before slamming it down on the bar with a satisfied smack of his lips. "I have to say, you have pretty damn good taste. I feel privileged to benefit from your studies."_

_Steve sighed, staring through his bottle. "Robert was always the one with the good taste buds. He was a damn fine cook."_

_Shepard raised a brow as he took another long drink. "He was usually the cook at home? That explains your terrible grilled cheese."_

_"You try making magic with soy cheese and flash frozen bread!" The men laughed together. "But yes, he always was better in the kitchen. Or give the man a barbeque and he would blow the socks right off of you."_

_"How about an open flame?" Shepard asked with a smirk._

_Steve jabbed the neck of his bottle in Shepard's direction. "You jibe, but give him a lighter, wood, and a cast iron pan, and he could make restaurant quality steak."_

_"In this day and age, he cooked with caveman tools?"_

_"We used to camp, when we could." Steve was grateful for his previous drinks; the haze kept his emotions at bay, preventing him from becoming tearful in front of the Commander again. "I've always appreciated connecting with nature, going back to our roots before technology began to rule our lives. So we'd take the bare bones essentials - a tent, a couple of flashlights, lighters, food, and cooking utensils - and canoe out to an uninhabited island. We'd fish for our dinner and build our fires with wood we found. Some of my fondest_ _memories were of us roasting marshmallows over the fire, the night sky so clear you could almost see the Citadel." Steve chuckled to himself, but his longing for a normal life, and Robert, was evident._

_Shepard's demeanor changed from joking to consoling. "Steve, no matter how hard I try, I can't bring back Robert, and I can't make things go back to the way that they were before the Reapers." He gripped Steve's shoulder, using the leverage to push himself up into a standing position. "But one day, I promise, you'll have an Earth to go back to, with uninhabited islands where you can roast marshmallows under the stars."_

_Steve's lips turned up into a smile. "If anyone can get it done, Shepard, it's you."_

* * *

Steve's hands trembled as he stared intensely at the comm's ECU in his hands, willing it to fix itself.

Their situation was about to degrade to desperation. He had to fix this ECU today or tomorrow, or they had no hope of sending a distress signal in time before they all starved.

For such a lush planet, its food offerings were surprisingly bare. The greenery would have fed a herd of cows, but could do nothing for humans. The beautiful red berries were highly poisonous and the wildlife proved impossible to catch. They needed nothing short of a miracle to survive.

What would they do, when the food ran out? Die by the end of a gun so they didn't have to succumb to starvation? Revert to hunters, forced to fend for themselves off barren rations?

If he didn't need to fix the ECU so badly, he was tempted to throw it across the room.

Loud footfalls behind him broke the silence; someone was running towards him. "Cortez!" It was Garrus. "Come outside, quickly!"

Although he was no expert on turian subvocals like Shepard, there was a clear note to Garrus's voice that Steve hadn't heard in months: excitement. He rested the ECU on his workbench and jogged out of the ship.

* * *

The crew was gathered in a semicircle around Kaidan, who had a large wooden crate at his feet and a pry bar in his hand. Steve faintly smelled... food?

"Everyone here?" Kaidan asked, scanning the crowd. "Good. Well everyone, looks like someone has been looking out for us. When James, Javik and I were on our way out the door to start repairs, we found this crate. EDI performed a scan on its contents, and I think that our troubles are about to come to an end."

Using the pry bar, he lifted the lid of the crate. The crew pushed forward to get a better look, and each of them gasped in turn as Kaidan lifted the contents and laid them on the ground.

"Real, genuine foodstuffs," he said, "Both dextro and levo. Hot dogs, hamburgers, chicken, steak, fresh vegetables, apples, strawberries-" he heard Traynor give a cry of excitement, "bread, cheese, marshmallows..." The list went on and on. Once they had gotten through the layer of food, even more gifts were buried beneath. "Communications ECU for you, Cortez," Kaidan said with a smile. Tears of happiness filled his eyes as he continued, "And a power coupling."

Everyone began to cheer, exchanging hugs and high fives.

They were  _saved._

"Grab some wood everyone, let's have a bonfire and get this food cooking. Then we'll start the work to get this ship in the air!"

* * *

"This whole thing is a bit odd, isn't it?" Traynor asked Cortez while bending down to pick up a piece of wood.

Steve knew the whole situation was bizarre, but he wanted to hear Sam's input. She had proven to be extremely perceptive when necessary. "I agree. What do you think about it?"

He followed her through the dense thicket while she spoke, picking up fallen kindling and firewood on the way. "Let's review the situation," she began. "Just short of three weeks ago, we crash landed here. Every single one of our systems was destroyed by whatever it is that Shepard did while he was in the Crucible. The Kodiak crash landed on Earth so we had no local transport, and with the engine down, so are our comms, our nav, our power, and our life support. We're damn lucky that this planet has suitable oxygen levels or we'd all be dead already." She paused as her brow furrowed. "And then at the peak of our desperation, Tali and EDI spot a non-hostile Reaper. Two days later, every supply we need just shows up at our door." Sam let out a short sigh. "I understand that everything has been scanned extensively and they found nothing, but something doesn't quite add up. What if this is just a Reaper trick? What if everyone who scanned it is indoctrinated and we just don't know it? Even if it isn't a trick, how did whoever delivered it know exactly what we needed?"

"There's something else I also noticed," Steve commented. "Whoever it was knew us well. They delivered a comm ECU, which I needed, and something even more strange. Why, of all food objects, would they include marshmallows? They're not nutritious, they're costly, and you can only find them on Earth."

"And why would they deliver strawberries, which are even more uncommon and expensive?" Sam mused.

Steve stopped, shifting the wood in his arms to one hand. "I have a bit of a... theory." He gestured at the space between them. "Can you keep it between us, at least for the moment?"

"Of course."

"Do you remember that shore leave after Rannoch?"

"You mean the one where Joker finally caved in and danced with EDI?"

Steve chuckled. "Yes, that one. Well I was having a drink at Eternity, and Shepard joined me for a beer. I told him some old stories about Robert and I; one of them was about how we used to camp and roast marshmallows together. The strange part is I never spoke of our camping trips to anyone on the Normandy except for Shepard." He saw Sam's eyes narrow. "What's even stranger is that last night I had a dream... it felt like I was awake it was so real, and it was a perfect recall of the time that I told him that story."

As he spoke, Sam's eyes went from narrow to very wide. "Based on your reaction, these dreams aren't exclusive to me?"

"No, they're not," she said softly. Realizing that they had been standing still instead of working, she began to move again. "I had a similar dream a few nights ago, from Shepard's party on the Citadel. We spoke about getting takeout food, which became a conversation about our favourite foods. I told him that I would take fresh fruit over almost everything, especially strawberries."

There was a long pause while both Samantha and Steve pondered over the evidence laid out before them. Cortez broke the silence and said, "Do you get the feeling that Shepard is somehow trying to communicate to us?"

"How?" She replied, slightly harshly. "We don't know if he's dead, but based on the evidence we're assuming he is. It sounds like you're suggesting he's a ghost, communicating to us from the afterlife. The dreams could just be manifestations of our feelings over the loss of Shepard."

"You can't deny how strange it is that the dreams directly correlate to the package that we received today."

She sighed. "Everything is strange with us, Steve."

"And I can't figure out how the Reapers fit into it all," he continued. "Three weeks ago, they were trying to obliterate all organics. Yesterday, they identify us as non-hostile. How does it all fit in? What did Shepard  _do_ with the Crucible?"

Sam froze as she was gripped with the strangest sensation. A sentence entered her mind abruptly, so clear that it couldn't have been a figment of her imagination but so out of place that it couldn't have been conducted by her mind. The intrusive voice was clearly Shepard's, and he said:

_We can control the Reapers._

For a flash that lasted an instant, she was blinded by blue light. Her ears rang so badly that she couldn't hear the leaves rustling as she fell to her knees, or the sound of the wood falling out of her arms piece by piece like falling raindrops, or Steve's concerned cries.

"Samantha? Sam! Sam!"

She blinked rapidly as the blue flash disappeared from her vision and the ringing dissipated from her ears.

"Sam, you scared the crap out of me, are you alright?"

She nodded, slowly at first but increasing in speed. "Yes, I'm fine." Her eyes met Steve's. "You're right. Shepard is trying to communicate with us. And I think he's doing it through the Reapers."

* * *

"Yo Esteban, you and Sam get lost or something? It's been - shit! Sam! You look like you've seen a ghost!"

The comm specialist was unusually pale as she took slow and calculated steps towards the rest of the crew, who had begun to prepare the food and start the fire.

"I'm alright," she insisted with a faint smile.

James gave Cortez a quizzical look, which he responded to with an encouraging smile. "She is alright," he said, "but we need to have a little meeting during lunch."

"I'll tell Kaidan." James took the pile of wood out of Samantha's arms. "You take a seat and get some water in you. Shit, you're pale, I'm gonna get Chakwas too."

As James jogged off in the direction of the ship, Cortez gently guided Traynor to a seat beside the fire. He brought her a water bottle, which she drank greedily.

Chakwas came out of the ship at a slow jog, medical bag in hand, closely followed by Kaidan and James.

"How are you feeling?" The doctor asked, crouching beside Samantha.

"A bit dizzy," she admitted, gingerly touching her forehead with unsteady fingertips.

Kaidan crouched on her other side, holding her wrist to check her pulse. In hushed tones, he asked, "What happened?"

Glancing at Steve, she said, "I think this should be told to the whole crew."

Kaidan nodded in affirmation. He was grateful for the sound of the fire crackling behind him, for it meant that food would be starting soon and Sam looked ashen enough to cause concern. "James, can you make sure everyone is outside? Steve, can you and Garrus get a start on that food?" The three men nodded before turning to commence their assigned tasks.

Doctor Chakwas, meanwhile, was checking Sam's blood pressure and temperature with her omni-tool. "Thankfully everything is normal, but a B12 shot would do you some good. You gave us quite the scare, Samantha."

"Why don't you go to the med bay with the Doctor, Sam?"

"Thank you, I will."

Kaidan stood to watch the women enter the  _Normandy_ , his arms crossing his broad chest.

Something felt odd about the situation, and he awaited her tale with nervous anticipation.

* * *

"Esteban, pass me one of those dogs!"

Steve chuckled and threw the pack into James' waiting hand. The bonfire seemed to rejuvenate the entire crew - they were chatting contentedly amongst each other about light topics, briefly putting aside thoughts of their lost Commander in lieu of discussions of the future.

The mood shifted as bellies filled and heads became heavy with a need for sleep, but there was too much ahead of them to yet succumb to rest.

"Thank God for whoever brought us all this food," Ensign Copeland commented. "We'd surely be close to starving otherwise."

The rest of the crew became silent, and he watched Sam shift uncomfortably at her queue to speak. "I think I know who gave us the crate," she said shyly.

"Who?" Gabby asked.

"Shepard."

Many sets of inquiring eyes and furrowed brows found the comm specialist. Tali, on the other hand, looked away uncomfortably.

"He's alive?" Private Westmoreland whispered.

Sam sighed. "No."

"Then how..."

Sam's eyes found Steve. "I have a theory. It may sound outlandish, but I know Steve will agree with me."

The inquiring eyes and furrowed brows were suddenly locked on him. "It started with the dreams," he began. "Sam and I discovered today that we've both been having them - lifelike memories of significant experiences with Shepard." His eyes darted across each face, shadows of their appearances drawn out by the fire. In spite of the differences in species, their expression was shared: familiarity.

"I take it from everyone's expressions that we're not the only ones with these dreams."

While staring at her hands, Liara said, "I have experienced them."

"Me too," James said, his tone unusually solemn.

"Yeah," was all Joker said.

"And I thought I was going crazy," Garrus commented.

"I blamed it on PTSD," Kaidan interjected.

"Protheans do not dream, our subconscious is too occupied to conjure falsifications." Javik's declaration received a blatant eye roll from James. "But I have felt a disturbance in the ship."

"Tali? What about you?" Kaidan asked gingerly. The quarian was so lost she could not answer; she couldn't even bring herself to her usual nervous habit of wringing her hands. It was a relief that others had been experiencing similar nighttime disturbances - upon closer inspection, she now noticed their bloodshot eyes and the dark lines beneath them. But a small, selfish part of her had looked forward to the nightly visits. In spite of the sleep they stole from her, and the longing left in their wake, they kept her connected to Shepard. She had even begun to attribute them to an unheard of method of communication between the two of them. Knowing that the entire crew also had them felt like a violation.

Recognizing her hesitation, Kaidan smoothly changed subjects. "So what's the theory, Sam? And what does it have to do with you feeling unwell?"

"I believe that Shepard is trying to communicate with us through the Reapers."

Kaidan blanched, muttering an incredulous, "What?"

"It's only a theory," Sam defended, holding her palms up. "Steve and I were discussing our dreams and the significance of them. Last night, we both dreamt of private discussions with Shepard regarding food that arrived in that crate." She pointed an accusing finger at the object. "We agreed that fact alone was too unusual to be overlooked. But when we were hypothesizing, Shepard..." She paused, unsure how to explain the phenomenon. "I heard his voice in my head. It was so overwhelming it blocked every other thought out of my mind. He said 'we can control the Reapers'. It was so powerful it left me weak and dizzy."

Garrus's mandibles flickered weakly as he pondered what Sam had to say. "So you're saying that Shepard used the Crucible to gain control of the Reapers, and he's using their indoctrination capabilities to send us messages through these dream-memories? And he used his Reapers to scout us out and find what we need so he can send us the necessary supplies?"

"You make my theory sound absolutely mad."

"But it's not. I remember The Illusive Man telling Shepard, long ago, that he believed that he could control the Reapers and that would be our salvation. Spirits, I never thought I'd say this, but maybe The Illusive Man was right. Or at least, Shepard thought he was."

"This is all theory, of course," Liara intercepted. "It is all unusual, supernatural almost. How can we know anything for certain?"

"We have to go back to Earth," Kaidan answered. "It's the only way we can see for ourselves."

As the conversation diminished so did the fire, as the  _Normandy_ crew considered the fate of their dear Commander.


	7. Harvest Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been continually reading this work, your support is always greatly appreciated! Thanks also goes out to MissMeggo for being a great beta reader. Just a warning that this chapter has content that some readers may find disturbing.
> 
> Credit goes to Neil Young for the lyrics used.

_"Have I told you that you look absolutely stunning tonight?"_

_Warm hands wrapped around her hips and his chin rested on her shoulder. His body heat warmed her back through the_ _suit. The odour of alcohol accompanied his words but she didn't mind; she already had a few herself._

_"Maybe," she purred, "But I never get tired of hearing it."_

_He nuzzled his chin into her shoulder, eyes closed as he breathed her in. This woman, this marvel, who had been a symbol of courage, dedication, and hope, was entirely his. To say he was lucky would be a heinous understatement. He wanted to remind her just how amazing she was. There was always the possibility he wouldn't get the chance again; the future was just too uncertain._

_"Tali'Zorah vas Normandy," he began, his words slightly slurred, "You are the most beautiful woman not only in this room, but in the universe. You are incredibly intelligent and innovative; the_ Normandy  _would barely be running without you. You are brave, willing to put yourself in the face of danger to save your crew or your people. You're open-minded and accepting, loving those who care about you regardless of where they're from."_

_She giggled. "Shepard, you're making me blush."_

_"I'm not done yet! You have a wonderful sense of humour, making me laugh when I need it the most. You care so much about your friends, your family... me. They call me a hero, but I wouldn't have been able to do any of this without you, so you're the true hero. And you're damn good to look at, too."_

_She spun to face him, resting her hands on his cheeks. "I don't deserve you," she whispered._

_"It's you that I don't deserve."_

_Although she wanted to argue, when she gazed into the depths of his eyes she could see only love and admiration, and because of that she knew he wasn't exaggerating._

_"I have something to show you upstairs." He smirked and cocked his brow._

_"Shouldn't we save that for later?" she cooed._

_"Tali!" He appeared mockingly abashed. "I'm good for more than sex, you know."_

_She smirked. "I'm not sure..."_

_"Just come with me!" He grabbed her hand, not roughly, and led her through their familiar crew - winking quickly at an ensnared James - before heading up the stairs, appearing slightly unsteady. They entered his room and with a quick swipe of his omni-tool the door shut behind them, drowning out the loud dance music._

_Attempting her most sultry tone, she asked, "So what do you need to show me?"_

_He held his forefinger up to request patience and fumbled with the stereo. He spun to smile at her expectantly as warm guitar tones filled the room. Arms at her sides, she waited as Shepard took hesitant steps towards her._

_She was surprised when he began to sing. "Come a little bit closer, hear what I have to say." He was slightly off-key, but his singing voice warmed her heart. His right hand found her waist and his left found her hand. He pulled her in close, resting his head atop her helmet so she could feel his throat rumble as he continued to sing to her. "Just like children sleepin, we could dream this night away."_

_She couldn't help it; a girlish giggle escaped her lips. She pulled him in tighter to show that it was a laugh of gratitude instead of mockery._

_"But there's a full moon risin, let's go dancing in the light."_

_"Shepard," she asked gently, her curiosity overriding her politeness. "Is this what you wanted to show me?"_

_"You know both my parents died when I was young?"_

_She started; this was a topic she had previously interpreted as forbidden. "Yes."_

_"I have one happy memory left of them. It was their wedding anniversary, and they were so broke that all they could afford was to cook dinner at home. After dinner, my dad put this song on our old stereo and began to dance with my mom... just like this." The last words were whispered, remnants of a time in his life that was never forgotten but always hidden away._

_She was touched that within the vault of his memories, he had opened one of the oldest doors to her. The significance of something as simple as a song was revealed to her, and she would forever treasure this moment._

I don't want to leave you, Tali,  _Shepard thought to himself._ I don't want to leave you like he left her. But do I have a choice?

Do I have a choice?

Do I have

Do I

* * *

_"I don't understand, Frankie."_

_"Don't understand what, little duck?"_

_"What happened to that guy from the Fives?"_

_"Which part?"_

_The young boy's brow furrowed as he attempted to articulate his confusion. "Well... Zakk told me he's a bad guy, 'cause he's in the Fives and all Fives are bad. But then the guy was real bad, since he came onto our terrirory."_

_"Territory, duck."_

_The little boy was cautious to properly enunciate his words after that; he didn't want to appear young and stupid. "Yeah, that. So the real bad guy came onto our territory, and Zakk had to use his biotics to throw him out of our territory. But after Zakk threw him, the real bad guy didn't get up. And then Zakk and Kelly put him in a bag and carried him away. Where did they take him?"_

_Frankie crouched down to the little boy's level, his knees creaking in protest. The humidity was unusually high today and it always made his joints ache; it also produced small beads of sweat on the boy's forehead. "Did your parents ever teach you about life and death?" The boy shook his head, his dark hair whipping across his face before sticking to his forehead. Frankie let out a deep sigh._

_"Life lessons aren't my forte, duck."_

_"What's a four tay?"_

_Frankie ruffled his hair; to the uneducated observer, it would have appeared to be an affectionate gesture. "Come for a walk with me."_

_"We're already on a walk."_

_"We're taking a detour before we get to the warehouse."_

_"OK!"_

_The young boy followed Frankie, humming an indistinct tune as he skipped. The man grabbed the boy's hand to pull him into a dark alley, weaving between dumpsters. The place reeked of stale piss and cheap alcohol, so the little boy held his breath. The man pulled a key ring from his pocket (the little boy had never seen one before, since all standard locks had become electronic in 2122) and approached a broad iron door. He wrestled the key into the lock and opened the door with a sharp push from his shoulder._

_The opening door allowed a slice of light into the otherwise pitch black room; the little boy jumped when the door slammed shut behind them. He and the man were plunged into absolute darkness. Frankie let out a curse and began to feel along the walls for a switch, and relief washed over the boy when a single bulb illuminated the room in dull yellow light._

_The area was larger than he originally anticipated, more like a warehouse than an apartment, and its only inhabitant was a lone man. He was seated on a metal chair with zip ties around his hands and feet and a cloth wrapped around his mouth. He was filthy, covered in sweat and dirt head-to-toe, and he appeared emaciated, his cheekbones prominent and his flesh pale. Even from across the room, judging by the stench emanating from him he had to have soiled himself many times._

_"Jackson," Frankie purred, in a mockery of comfort, "I've brought a visitor to see you. Say hello, little duck."_

_The man's cry was muffled by the cloth in his mouth. He made a weak attempt to rock his chair back-and-forth, but starvation made him weak and he quickly gave up. "Hullo," the little boy muttered._

_"Jackson was a very bad man, little duck. He joined the Reds like a good man, but then he told the Fives lots of secrets about the Reds. That makes him worse than the bad man from yesterday, because he's what we call a snitch." Although the little boy had known Frankie for almost a year now, he had never heard his voice take on such a tone; the man was clearly enjoying every aspect of this, and it sent a shiver down the boy's spine._

_The prisoner began to squirm uncomfortably, moaning in fear against his cloth. Frankie pulled his pistol out from his belt - the little boy hadn't even noticed that he had equipped it - and approached the prisoner, resting it on his knee. His tone remained conversational as he spoke to the prisoner, watching the man although his words were meant for the boy. "So here's your lesson today, duck. The Reds are going to rule this city one day. I will be the leader and you will be my right hand man. But in order to rule this city, we need to rid it of all the really bad men and the snitches like Jackson. Otherwise, the really bad men will want to hurt us." The trembling prisoner wet himself. He closed his eyes and tears began to carve lines in his dirty cheeks. "And we don't want that, do we duck? Listen to me, duck. Right now, you're breathing, your heart is beating, and you're thinking. You're alive. But if you want to stay that way, sometimes that means another person has to die." He began to push the barrel of the pistol further into the prisoner's knee until he threw his head back in pain. "When you die, your lungs stop breathing, your heart stops beating, your brain stops thinking. You stop existing. You don't want that, do you duck?"_

_"No," the little boy said, his voice barely above a whisper._

_"Good. If you want to live, this man has to die. Otherwise, the Fives will find us and kill us. Do you understand?"_

_The boy's hands began to shake and the blood drained from his face. "Y-yes."_

_"Good. You are such a smart boy. Your mother would have been very proud." He lifted the barrel from the prisoner's knee and approached the boy. When he kneeled beside him, his knees cracked like gunshots and the prisoner cried out, jumping in his bindings. The prisoner began to mouth a prayer._

_"Hold this, duck." Frankie wrapped the boy's small hands around the pistol. "See this, where your first finger is? That's the trigger. Only use this if you're pointing it at someone you want dead, got it?" The boy gave him a slack-jawed nod. "This is the barrel. This is the end you point away from you and toward them." Frankie ran his finger over it, almost affectionately. "Remember that they overheat after a few shots, so aim for the head."_

_Holding the boy's hands in his own, Frankie aimed the pistol at the prisoner's head._

_"Ready to kill your first man, duck?"_

* * *

Tali woke to the sound of a gunshot and screaming echoing through her semi-conscious mind. It took her a moment to realize that it was she who was screaming, and that she was sitting up in bed.

She clutched her chest in an attempt to control her breathing. She knew that little boy's long nose, dark hair, and bright eyes. It was a young Shepard. Around nine, if she had to guess. She had just witnessed his first kill. She coughed out bile in disgust, her suit whisking it away as soon as she realized its presence.

"Tali? Tali! Tali are you alright?"

Garrus appeared at her side, his subvocals thrumming with fear. Through her gloves she could feel the warmth radiating from his hands as he clasped hers.

She took a steadying breath before responding slowly. "Shepard again. But it wasn't a dream of us; it was a dream of him, as a boy."

He didn't pry for details; he knew from her rude awakening it had been something disturbing. She seemed at a loss for words as she leaned to rest her head on his shoulder, tears erupting from her bright eyes.

"It'll be ok." His deep tones rumbled through his body, soothing her. She loved Shepard, she would always love Shepard, but seeing the man she loved so much perform an act so vile - voluntary or not - snapped away a piece of her heart, a piece of her love for him. The loss of that part of herself left a sharp pain. Worse yet was the knowledge that what she saw was only the first time Shepard had killed in such a manner. In the comfort of Garrus's arms, she wept and wept.

Did Shepard intend to show her this? If he did, why?

* * *

"Rear Admiral? Admiral Hackett is requesting you in his office, sir."

Coats turned from his desk to smile faintly at the shy Lieutenant. "Thank you Lieutenant Smollett, I'll be right there."

He dimmed his terminal - currently covered with article after article studying Reaper behaviour - and rubbed his tired eyes. He adjusted his new uniform (which, despite two fittings, still felt too stiff and uncomfortable), placed his cap on his dark hair, and marched to Hackett's office.

The door was already open, and Hackett looked even more weary than Coats felt. Even his customary cap had been removed, taking a new place beside Hackett's terminal. His grey hair was unkempt, defying gravity as it stuck up in every direction.

"Something to show you, Coats." Since Coats' promotion several weeks prior, Hackett began to treat him less like a subordinate and more like an equal, asking him for advice instead of giving him commands. It was an unexpected, but not unpleasant, change for Coats.

"Yes, sir." Hackett gestured at his terminal, and Coats took his place beside him to watch the live feed at the Charon Relay over the Admiral's shoulder.

"The Reapers are beginning to travel through the relay." Hackett pointed at the screen, and as he did, they watched a Sovereign-class approach the relay before disappearing in a flash.

Coats' brow shot up to his hairline. "So the relay has been repaired?"

"It appears that is the case."

"And our contacts at Arcturus?"

"It seems that the Reapers at their relay are also passing through."

Coats wet his lips. "So the Reapers have completed the repairs on the relays. But what if it's a trap, and the relay leads to a destination determined by the Reapers?"

"That's why we'll be sending through a VI-controlled ship before we send anyone else out. That will provide us with an opportunity to do some scouting for whatever is on the other side of that relay."

"If they did repair it and didn't alter the destination, what do you think their next step is?"

"Damned if I know," Hackett grumbled. "But that's our next mystery to solve."


	8. Eden Prime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize profusely for the long wait for this chapter. I had been experiencing a bit of writer's block, but updates will be more frequent from hereon in! As always, a huge thanks to MissMeggo for being an eternally wonderful beta and to everyone who's been reading and supporting this journey so far.

_"So I say to the clone, 'the minute.. the second I get out of here, I'm going to take your head and mount it in the Normandy CIC. Then I'm going to take her head, and mount it next to yours. Then I'm going to take both your heads and space them out the airlock!'"_

_Garrus slammed his glass down on the table and clutched his chest as he was overtaken with gales of laughter. When he regained his ability to speak, he said, "Commander Shepard, destroyer of the Thorian, Saren, the Collectors, two Reapers, and his clone." He chuckled again and took a long drink from his turian brandy._

_"It wasn't easy, but it sure as hell wasn't boring either."_

_"Nothing with you has been what I'd call 'boring', Shepard, not even retrieving elcor refugees."_

_"I went there expecting to see elcor warriors with cannons strapped to their backs. I left disappointed."_

_Garrus let out a low chuckle. "I knew you didn't head to Dekunna just to be helpful."_

_Shepard finished his drink and stumbled to the bar to pour himself another. "Guilty as charged." He flopped back onto the couch, his arms stretched wide, his expression distant and morose in spite of their light conversation._

_"We're almost at the end, Shepard. What are your plans after this?"_

_Shepard took a long pause before answering, his gaze fixed on the stars that passed them through the observation window. To know that only a sheet of reinforced glass separated them from the safety of the ship and a disturbingly familiar death always left him feeling uneasy._

_Without a doubt, Garrus was his closest friend on the_ Normandy _. In the galaxy, for that matter. So why did Shepard find himself so afraid of speaking the truth to him and Tali? Why did a white lie have to be preferable to painful reality? Closing his eyes he finished the last of his... whatever it was that Cortez had bought him a bottle of. His throat burning, he whispered, "I don't think there is a future for me, Garrus."_

_Garrus's mandibles flickered uncomfortably, and the strain in his subvocals was clear. "What do you mean?"_

_"Garrus, the galaxy is expecting me to destroy an entire race of sentient machines in the next few days. You really think I'm going to be able to succeed in doing that without sacrificing myself? My only goal is to do whatever it takes to make sure that none of you have to sacrifice yourselves too."_

_"We're with you to the end, Shepard, whether that means the end of the battle or the end of our lives."_

_"You don't..." Shepard sighed in frustration, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and his forehead in his calloused palms. "I made a mistake."_

_Garrus watched him with hunter's eyes, fearful of Shepard's next words._

_"I never should have pursued Tali," Shepard said into his hands. "I was being so selfish. On the SR-1, she was this stable entity on the ship, the sort of stability I didn't know that I needed until I died." He moved his face away from his hands and studied them. "I've never told this to anyone, Garrus, but as my lungs took in my last painful breaths before I died, I saw Tali. It would have made so much more sense to see my parents, Anderson, Liara, even Ashley, but the only thing that filled my mind was an image of her looking up at me. Cerberus may have brought my body back, but I didn't wake up until I saw her on Freedom's Progress. Knowing she wasn't just alive but that she was thriving made me need her presence like I needed oxygen. When The Illusive Man sent me her dossier, I wanted to hug that cybernetic bastard." A humourless laugh escaped his lips. "To me, she's... I don't know how to describe it, Garrus. Imagine a man stuck at the bottom of a well, attempting to escape. He meets many friends and lovers during his incarceration, all of which care about him and throw him supplies to keep him alive. But one day a woman appears who throws him a ladder to pull him out of his prison. That's what Tali is to me."_

_"Then why was it a mistake?"_

_"Because instead of climbing up to the surface, I pulled her down with me. She didn't realize it, she just cared about me so much that she wanted to be with me regardless of the cost. But now we love each other, and I'm asking her to risk her life, and if she survives and I don't, she'll be down in that well alone."_

_"She's not a fool, she knows what she got herself into. She also knows it's worth it, and she knows that you're doing this to save the galaxy. Not just your people, but her people too."_

_"But why did I have to let her get attached to me?" he growled. "If I had just left her alone, or told her we couldn't take the risk, she'd be a hell of a lot happier when this is all over."_

_"I know she'd rather be with you for a short time than not at all."_

_"Goddammit, Garrus!" Shepard snapped, clenching his jaw as his eyes met the turian's. The weight of everything was proving to be too great of a burden to bear alone. He not only had to consider the lives of the dozens of species he was expected to save, but also the lives of his crew, which had become the family he never had._

_In a perfect galaxy where there were no Reapers, he may have married Tali and built a home on Rannoch with her. But this was not a perfect galaxy; it was a galaxy marred with brutality and destruction, where they were being fucked by something which didn't naturally exist. So much for survival of the fittest._

_He regained his composure with a series of long, deep breaths. "I need to ask you a favour."_

_"Of course, Shepard." Garrus didn't appear perturbed by Shepard's previous outburst; he couldn't blame the man for growing weary of having the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders._

_"When this is over and I'm gone-"_

_Garrus interrupted, "When this is over and if something happens to you."_

_"Minor details. What matters is that I need you to take care of Tali when I'm gone. I don't mean keep her safe; she does a great job of doing that on her own. I mean make sure she has someone to talk to, someone to lean on when she's feeling down. Can you do that for me?"_

_"She's like a sister to me, Shepard. I'll take care of her."_

 

* * *

 

 

Even with the Thanix Cannon in operational, Garrus found comfort in the main battery. It was hardly the quietest room on the ship, but the constant thrumming and droning resonating through the room had become a comforting form of white noise. So much so, that when he had returned home to Cipritine, he couldn't sleep for lack of it.

He had many a fond memory in this room, and some that were far from fond. He remembered the excitement at discovering Cerberus had equipped the SR-2 with such a cutting edge cannon, and the many hours he had spent perfecting its targeting system. During those hours he slowly came to terms with the loss of his team on Omega, and eventually the death of Sidonis at the hand of his sniper rifle. At first, Shepard had disapproved his desire to bring vengeance to the man who had betrayed him and his team. But Shepard respected Garrus's wishes enough to allow him to proceed with his plan. As a result, Garrus had experienced his first night's sleep since Omega that wasn't plagued with images of the mutilated corpses of his team.

He slipped off a glove and grasped the railing to feel it resonate faintly under his hand. It brought great comfort to feel the ship running; they would no longer be stuck like animals in a trap. They had access to the galaxy - and to some damn answers - once again.

"Garrus, Kaidan is requesting you on the bridge."

"Be right there, Joker."

He was pleased that Kaidan had taken his temporary position of leadership in stride. His ego had not been inflated, and he requested that no one call him anything other than "Kaidan". No "sir", no "commander", not even "Alenko". The man was nothing if not humble.

His boots maintained a steady rhythm as he passed through the CIC, acknowledging each crew member. Saving the galaxy had brought them all together and their time stranded together brought everyone even closer. He might be less familiar with  _The Normandy_ 's crew, but he knew no one on this team would betray him.

As soon as the doors slid open before him, his eyes locked onto the stars passing, a sight which had become unfamiliar as of late. It was a sign they were on the move, and one step closer to their goal. "You needed me, Kaidan?"

The Spectre, his hands laced behind his back in parade stance, spun to smile wryly at Garrus. "We're making a quick stop in the colony to stock up on fuel before we head to the relay. Thought you might want to see the old girl lift off."

Tali's voice rang from behind him. "It'll be good to be among the stars again."

When Garrus turned to face Tali, warmth spread through his chest. For the first time since their crash landing, she sounded hopeful; he only wished that she wouldn't be disappointed once they reached Earth. "That makes two of us, Tali."

 

* * *

 

 

"The colony is empty." Kaidan's hushed tones fitted the utterly silent environment. In the distance they could hear the wind through the leaves and the whir of an idle transmitter, but there were no human sounds.

"Did Cerberus root them out?" James asked, his hand protectively resting on the pistol at his hip.

Liara answered, "My information indicated that with Shepard's assistance the colony was able to rebel against Cerberus, but without access to my systems I have had no updates."

"Look sharp, just to be safe," Kaidan commanded with pursed lips. "It feels too quiet."

Garrus began a preliminary scan for life forms with his visor while analyzing the area. The colonists' departure seemed too rushed; in one prefab he found a bed left unmade, in another he found a dinner table topped with half-eaten meals. His visor indicated they were still warm.

"Either they were rooted out ten minutes ago, or they ran at the sight of us," he whispered to Kaidan.

Liara's voice rang in Kaidan's comm. "I found someone. Second prefab in the northeast corner. Don't send everyone or we'll scare her."

"Noted." Kaidan waved for Garrus to follow him. "Everyone else keep searching, we need to find their fuel supply."

When Kaidan and Garrus entered the prefab, they found Liara sitting cross-legged on the floor beside a young human girl. Kaidan estimated she was around seven, with unkempt blonde hair, chocolate brown eyes, and bare feet.

"Are they Cerberus?" she asked Liara timidly, her cautious eyes darting to the men standing in the doorway.

"They're friends," the asari replied with a warm smile. "They want to help, too."

Kaidan lowered himself onto his haunches so he could look the girl in the eyes. "What's your name, little one?"

"Alice," she whispered.

"Nice to meet you, Alice. I'm Kaidan, and this is Garrus." He didn't miss the shadow of fear that crossed her eyes when her gaze fell on the hulking turian with the scarred visage. Garrus attempted a friendly nod, but to her it could have easily appeared frightening. "He may look scary, but he's really nice," Kaidan added quickly. "What happened to the colony?"

Alice's eyes fell to the floor. "Most of them are gone. There's a few people left but they hid when they saw your ship, in case you're Cerberus too."

"Where did they go?" Liara asked, cocking her head.

"The Shepard came." Liara and Garrus's eyes met - they had been with Shepard on his trip to Eden Prime to retrieve Javik. The colony was barely keeping together at that point; what had happened since then? "He took the relic everyone wanted. I remember it was really big, like as big as a person. Cerberus wanted it really bad. I was there when he took it, and I saw lots of fighting."

"You're very brave," Liara encouraged.

"It was scary, but Shepard helped us. He gave us information to stop them. So all the adults made what weapons they could and fought back." She smacked a closed fist into an open palm, a small line knitting between her brows. "A lot of them... so many of them... died. My daddy included. But they beat Cerberus, and some of us lived. It was quiet for a while, I lived with Auntie Wendie, but I still miss my dad lots. Then the Alliance stopped sending us supplies."

"When?"

"I dunno. A month ago? But now we can only eat a little bit every day, and it's mostly bars and paste. I miss real food."

Liara looked to Kaidan for approval. "Don't we have some food left over? Can we give it to these people?"

"Some, yes. How many colonists are here now, Alice?"

"Uhh..." She began to count on her tiny fingers, her lips forming the names of the other colonists. "About twenty?"

"We don't have enough for that many," Liara muttered, her eyes downcast.

Heavy footfalls were heard from outside and James jogged up to the doorway, slightly breathless. "I found their fuel supply, Kaidan. We should be able to buy enough to get back to Earth."

"Alice, sweetheart, can you get us one of the adults?"

She nodded quickly and took off like a flash of lightning in the opposite direction of the crew.

Liara stood and brushed off the back of her legs. "Their situation is dire."

"But what can we do to help?" Kaidan inquired. "We can give them what rations we have to spare, but it would only be enough for one meal for all of them. Who knows what the situation is with the Alliance and when they'll be able to send them supplies."

Liara was only able to shake her head. She had seen firsthand the devastation of the Reapers, but it felt even worse to see the havoc that Cerberus could wreak upon their fellow human. Yet would she be so much better if she idly sat by while this colony collapsed?

Alice returned, hand-in-hand with a fearful-looking grey-haired woman in her late sixties. The woman's wide eyes darted between the crew members, her mouth becoming wider and wider as she took in their armour and weaponry.

"You must be Wendie." Kaidan kept his voice as gentle as possible; she looked like a deer in the headlights, ready to dart in an unexpected direction at the slightest movement. "My name is Kaidan. These are Liara, James, and Garrus. We would like to purchase some fuel from you. We'll pay premium prices and we'll give you some rations as well. It's not much, but maybe enough for a warm meal for everyone. How does that sound?"

"Are you Cerberus?" Her voice sounded like that of a ghost, as light as air and ready to blow away with the smallest gust of wind.

"I'm an Alliance Major, and a Spectre."

Garrus swallowed and averted his gaze from the woman's; he could hear the fear in her voice when she said the name of that organization, and he felt guilty to know that he once associated himself with them, even though it was because he followed Shepard.

"The Alliance hasn't helped us. Why should we help you?"

"We're Commander Shepard's crew. We're trying to get back to Earth to find out what happened to him. He stopped Cerberus, and he stopped the Reapers."

Her eyes rapidly shook from side-to-side, their brown depths filling with tears. "Cerberus is gone?"

"Cerberus is no more."

Kaidan watched her lip tremble, her grip tightening on Alice's hand. Wordlessly, she pushed through the group and out the door in the direction that James had come from.

"That must be a yes," James commented, watching her retreat.

With their food replenished and supplies doled out, the  _Normandy_  crew knew their time to return to Earth had come.

"Thank you again for your help." Kaidan shook Wendie's hand; her arm waved like a wet noodle before falling limply to her side. He had rarely seen a woman so defeated. The rest of the colonists had begun to come out from hiding, and they shared her lost expression.

"Alright people, let's go!" Joker shouted out the airlock.

"Wait!" Liara cried out as she stood before the airlock. The crew turned to stare at her quizzically, watching as her eyes closed firmly and her hands balled into fists at her side. "I'm staying."

"What?"

She sighed and opened her eyes. "I'm staying here, at least for the time being. Never in my years have I seen a group of people so discarded by society. First the geth, then Cerberus? They need help. I can recreate my network and use it to call in supplies and help them rebuild."

This was what she needed, and she knew it. After Shepard's disappearance and assumed loss, her heart yearned for purpose. She could set up a small base of operations here, helping the colonists while gathering her contacts. Every colony in the galaxy needed help now, but she felt a tie to this place. Knowing that it housed the Prothean artifact that started it all, as well as Javik himself, raised her archaeological curiosity. It wouldn't be a permanent residence, but it seemed like a damn good place to start.

"I won't stop you, Liara," Kaidan said. "You need to do what's best for you."

"Thank you, Kaidan."

"You'll always be part of the  _Normandy_ family. James, will you help Liara move her things?" The marine nodded in affirmation and made his way to her quarters.

"I will stay as well," Javik intercepted. "I wish to further study this place. It has many ties to my people, I can hear their voices in the land."

Kaidan nodded respectfully to the Prothean. Although he was loyal to Shepard, with their Commander gone, it was no surprise that he wished to sever ties. He couldn't blame him for having curiosities about how he ended up on this planet, and how it related to his lost people. It would provide much needed direction for Javik now that the war was over.

"It was an honour serving with you, Javik," Garrus said. "Although I won't miss the threats of being thrown out the airlock." Javik merely scowled in response before pushing through the group to collect his things in his quarters. Liara followed him, sending a forlorn glance to the rest of the crew.

Tali watched their retreating backs, realizing that this was truly the beginning of the end of their time as a crew.


	9. Zaeed's Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your patience with my slow updates, and for continuing to read my story! I'm dedicating this chapter to my friend pixelatrix, who planted the seed of friendship between Zaeed & Hackett in my mind!

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Zaeed."

The mercenary ran his fingers through his uncooperative grey hair. "I bloody hope it's worth dragging me out of bed at 0400 hours, Hackett."

"It is," Hackett replied with a smirk. "We're heading to the docks."

A glint of hope flashed in Zaeed's bloodshot eyes, but his only response was to nod curtly. Hackett spun on his heel to exit his office and Zaeed followed, more out of habit than respect.

Although it wasn't public knowledge, Zaeed Massani and Steven Hackett maintained an old friendship born from a youthful passion for mischief. They had attended secondary school together, their camaraderie forming quickly over a shared interest in guns and grenades. As they aged, however, a divide began to form. Zaeed was prone to trouble, getting himself expelled by the age of seventeen, while Hackett excelled in all of his classes and started on a path to success. As a result of his expulsion, Zaeed was kicked out of his home and turned to a life on the streets, quickly resorting to mercenary work due to his capabilities with a sniper rifle. Hackett on the other hand catapulted his way through military ranks, earning dozens of medals and honours on the way.

Their differences in lifestyle didn't change their friendship; they maintained contact throughout the years, Zaeed respecting Hackett's need for privacy and Hackett respecting Zaeed's need for secrecy. Never did Zaeed attempt to intrude on military affairs, keeping himself out of Alliance trouble, and in return Hackett turned a blind eye towards the occasionally gruesome side effects of mercenary work. However, if there was a line of information pertinent to the other, it would always be shared.

Now that the Reaper war was over and the potential for retirement hung over Hackett's head like a dark cloud, their dynamic of secrecy was shifting. Hackett requested that Zaeed join Coats in order to analyze his prospective replacement. He was pleased when Coats passed with flying colours, proving himself to be cool and analytical under intense pressure. Although Hackett didn't relish the inevitable idea of retiring to focus on his health, having a capable replacement made the transition easier.

"How's the Alliance?" Zaeed asked, his tone dripping with disdain. He had a way of speaking about any authority with a degree of disdain - except Shepard, of course.

"How do you think?" Hackett replied curtly. "Just as bad as last week, and the week before that."

Zaeed immediately realized from Hackett's tone that matters must have been progressing at a slower rate than he initially believed. "That VI-controlled ship didn't work?"

"It worked," Hackett admitted, "And the relays are officially operating at full capacity."

"Then why the expression like you have a goddamn stick up your ass?"

Hackett inhaled sharply through his nose. "It doesn't mean things are easy now, Massani. It means that I have a hell of a lot more work to do as we organize the evacuation of the krogan, salarians, turians, quarians, and asari to their respective homeworlds. That evacuation means the loss of millions of able bodies who were aiding with the repair efforts. We have thousands who are demanding news on their saviour, Shepard, and we have nothing for them. The cherry on the sundae is the politics: with the galaxy in shambles, the Council is banging down my door demanding we nominate a human councilor."

Zaeed's ever perceptive eyes narrowed. "I was under the impression the Council was dead."

Hackett's downtrodden expression brought a surge of hot guilt to the pit of Zaeed's stomach. "The Council received a warning five minutes before the Reapers took the Citadel. It was enough time to have them evacuated. Everyone else... wasn't so lucky."

"Christ," Zaeed whispered. "That's... millions. Billions."

"And the only thing the Council is worried about is making sure there's a human councilor to weather the political shitstorm with them," he said through gritted teeth.

"And you wonder why I got into mercenary work instead of goddamn politics."

In spite of the time, London's docking bay was abuzz with action. A salarian brushed past Zaeed, his nose buried in a datapad. A quarian couple barely avoided crashing headfirst into Hackett, sprinting after a tiny quarian boy. An asari soldier loaded a last crate into her ship before the door slid shut behind her. "This place is a bloody mess," Zaeed growled.

"To accommodate the influx of outgoing ships, we have them flying out at all hours." He turned sideways to avoid a krogan who barreled past them, shouting 'sorry!' over his retreating back. "They want to get back to their homeworlds and their families. In spite of how welcome their assistance was in rebuilding, they were a drain on our already strained resources."

Zaeed knew they reached their docking bay when he spotted the Alliance soldiers posted at its doors. It was a private bay, shielded from the curious eyes of onlookers. Both soldiers saluted at Hackett before stepping aside to allow him entry.

"It's empty," Zaeed grumbled. In response, Hackett smirked and pointed to the sky. The ashy smog covering the atmosphere had barely dissipated, and it left the sky so black the only visible points in the night sky were Earth's Moon and the North Star. When Zaeed narrowed his eyes to focus, he could just spot an incoming ship.

He quickly wet his lips. "Is that..." He trailed off, no longer needing an answer to his question. The sloped back, the forked nose, even the sound were all distinctive to that ship.

The  _Normandy._

"I can't fucking believe it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Hackett watched Zaeed's jaw drop and he could have sworn he saw his old friend's eyes grow damp. "Believe it. They're home."

Zaeed turned away from Hackett, angrily brushing away the hot tears that were forming in the weathered creases at the corners of his eyes. When he had joined his first mercenary group nearly fifty years ago, he made a promise to himself: no more attachment. Mercenary life meant being constantly on the move and jumping into the fire, and within that life there was no room for love or friendship. Steven had been the only exception to the rule as he proved himself to be the boulder keeping Zaeed tethered down as he was battered by endless storms.

Joining the Normandy had become to the other exception to his rule. It had become the first place that was like home to him since he became a mercenary and the crew was the family that would never abandon him like his real family did. The sarcastic pilot, the matronly doctor, the bickering engineering crew, Shepard... they accepted and embraced him in spite of his brazen bitterness. Seeing them alive again brought tears to the eyes that had been dry since the day his mother kicked him out of his childhood home.

"Was it worth dragging you out of bed at 0400 hours?" Hackett asked kindly.

Zaeed turned to face him again and nodded firmly, the brief moment of weakness pushed to the darkest recesses of his mind.

With Joker's practiced precision, the ship slid into the bay, landing with the airlock directly in front of Hackett and Zaeed. There was barely a hesitation before it swung open and the crew began to tumble out.

Major Alenko stepped out first, snapping a salute at Hackett before shaking his outstretched hand. Alenko looked exhausted: his normally trim beard had grown significantly and he was in desperate need of a haircut. James Vega followed closely behind him, also in need of a beard trim and a haircut, but his eyes were full of relief to see Earth once again. The rest of the crew rushed onto the docks, desperate for a taste of Earth once again; Pilot Moreau, the AI known as EDI, Advisor Vakarian, Admiral Tali'Zorah, Doctor Chakwas...

As the crew began to form a line before him, Hackett realized a few familiar faces were absent. "Before me stand an honoured group of heroes. But where are Doctor T'Soni and Javik?" After his experience hunting down the Crucible blueprints with Doctor T'Soni, he had to admit that he had grown fond of the headstrong asari. The Prothean was more abrasive, but his skills on the battlefield were unprecedented.

"They remained on Eden Prime, taking care of the colony," Kaidan explained.

"Guess they still weren't ready for retirement," Zaeed chimed in.

"It was an honourable decision. Now that we have you all here-"

His precursor to his speech was interrupted by loud footfalls and gasping breath as Jacob Taylor sprinted into the docking bay. "Sorry I'm late," he managed to say between breaths. He was sporting an Alliance uniform and a standard-issue pistol. He quickly shook hands with the crew members he was familiar with from his tour on the SR-2.

Hackett continued when Jacob had snapped to his side. "A few brief matters to take care of. First and foremost, on behalf of the entire Systems Alliance, I would like to thank all of you for your service not only to humanity, but to the entire galaxy. None of us would be here without you. As a token of humanity's gratitude, you will all be awarded Stars of Terra.

"Word of your return is going to get out quickly. With the influx of outgoing refugees, I was able to secure a series of rooms in an apartment building for all of you to stay in. I'm sure you would all like a hot shower and a warm bed, because as soon as the media catches up with all of you, your private time is about to be cut short. We'll meet tomorrow in the temporary Alliance Headquarters at promptly 0800 hours.

"Zaeed and Jacob will lead you to your temporary housing, and they'll also lead you to Alliance HQ tomorrow. I know that many of you would like to return to your respective homeworlds, and we'll arrange transportation as necessary once we've completed a few administrative duties. Major Alenko, if it's agreeable with you, I'd like to have a meeting immediately. There are urgent matters that need to be discussed."

Kaidan nodded firmly. He only hoped he could get some of the answers the group was desperately in need of. "Yes, sir."

"Excellent. See you all at 0800 hours."

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as Hackett and Kaidan were out of earshot, the crew exploded into questions.

"Is there any news on Shepard?" Tali asked, her hands gripped together.

"Have you been seeing Reaper troops on Earth?" Garrus inquired.

Joker nearly shouted, "What's going on with the relays?"

"Did anyone on the Citadel survive?" Cortez pleaded.

Jacob held his palms out to the group in an attempt to placate them. "I know you all have questions, but I think these are all things that Hackett wants to address himself."

"Why can't we meet with him now then?" James demanded. "Why can only the Major go? We want answers!"

"I know you've been waiting a long time, but I'm sure the Admiral wants to speak to Kaidan alone for a reason."

"Please, just tell us if you know anything at all about Shepard," Tali begged.

Jacob's heart sank to his toes at Tali's words. His first impression of the quarian hadn't been the most positive, but she had quickly proven herself to be an extraordinary woman who deserved Shepard's love. He feared his next words. "He's been missing since that day. There's a lot of untouched rubble around the city, but right now... unless someone else found him, his chances of survival are slim at best."

"Oh," she whispered, her gaze falling. "Oh," she repeated, her arms wrapping around her midsection. Garrus wrapped his arm around her shoulder in consolation, but she seemed unable to react to anything.

"I'm sorry Tali," Jacob said. "Let me take you to your living areas. You all deserve rest."

Tali leaned into Garrus's shoulder, breathing out one last "oh" of defeat.

Kaidan's eyes roamed around Hackett's vast library office. It was more lavish than he would have anticipated from the Admiral's minimalist nature; in times long past it would have belonged to the head librarian at the British Library. The walls were covered from ceiling to floor in honest-to-goodness paper books. He approached a leather-bound 17th century history novel and pulled it from its spot in the shelf; a puff of dust rose in its wake. He thumbed through the pages, reveling in the long forgotten scent of old paper. Texts like these preached of the faults of overexpansion and the hunger for power; perhaps if humanity had learned they would have never become a target for the Reapers.

Yet humans had a need for war; since the 1800s, Earth was almost in a constant state of war in one country or another. The expansion into space just meant that they began to fight aliens instead of each other.

The oak double doors swung open and Hackett re-entered, steaming mugs of coffee in each hand. Kaidan returned the novel to its original resting place, ensuring that it lined up with its neighbours. "Two milk, three sugar," he said to Kaidan, passing him his respective mug. He took a long sip of it, sighing contently as warmth spread through his tired limbs.

"Sir, this is real coffee," he said, surprised.

"Only the best for the  _Normandy_ crew," Hackett replied, the corner of his lip lifting into a crooked smile. "Have a seat at my desk."

At Hackett's request, Kaidan sunk into a plush suede armchair across from Hackett. The desk was so full of paperwork he didn't have room to rest his coffee; however, he didn't mind, he enjoyed the comfort of the warmth in his palms.

"I brought you here alone, for now, so we could speak off the record. Although unintentional, your decision to land in the small hours of the morning was advantageous. Right now, only a handful of us know that you're here; in about three hours the news will spread like wildfire and all notions of private conversation will be thrown out the window." He placed his elbows on his desk and rested his fingertips together, forming a pyramid. "Let's keep things brief and concise. We'll cover everything in full during tomorrow's meeting."

"Yes, sir."

"There are a few matters I'd like to immediately put on the table." To emphasize his point, he moved a stack of papers aside. "First and foremost, Shepard. I'm sorry to say that he's been missing since the Battle for Earth. The rubble is so extensive it will take us years to clear it all, but..." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We had to declare him KIA. It's been four weeks. His cybernetic implants could have kept him alive for a short time, but considering the destruction of the Citadel and Crucible it's nearly impossible to consider his survival."

Kaidan's gaze fell to the hardwood floor, eyes becoming hot with the threat of tears. "Right."

"Furthermore, the Council managed to escape, but the rest of the citizens on the Citadel weren't so lucky."

"All of them?" Kaidan whispered incredulously.

"All of them."

"My God..."

"It's disturbing to consider how many lives were lost that day; nearly half the casualties in the entire war. I'm lucky I pulled out the Crucible scientists and kept them on Earth; otherwise, we would have lost many of the galaxy's most brilliant minds as well."

Kaidan's golden eyes lifted to meet Hackett's blue ones. "How did Shepard's Collector base crew fare?"

"As you are aware, Zaeed Massani and Jacob Taylor are well and assisting me when they can. The rest of the crew have reported in and are helping with the rebuilding efforts where they're needed."

He let out a sigh of relief - at least there was one piece of good news in this disaster.

"There is another urgent matter which must be discussed," Hackett said. "The Reapers."

"Right." Kaidan's stomach tightened into a knot as he remembered the fireside discussion with the crew.

"As you may have been able to ascertain, they haven't been destroyed and they are still very present. However, they appear to no longer be hostile." Kaidan could see the sun begin to rise through the wide window behind Hackett; the sky was so dark he could barely see it, but he caught a streak of orange light that snuck into Hackett's office. "In fact, they restored the mass relays to full functionality."

"That explains why we had no issues with our jump."

"What we can't figure out is what the hell Shepard did in the Crucible that changed the Reapers. We were on comm in the last few minutes..." Hackett shook his head. "I kept telling him it wasn't working, and our comms suddenly shut down. Only minutes later, that beam of blue light exploded out of the Crucible and the rest was chaos."

Kaidan's arms crossed his chest. "You're sure this place isn't bugged, sir?" Hackett nodded in affirmation. "Good, because I have a bit of a hypothesis on what happened with Shepard."

He briefly summarized the bizarre occurrences during the  _Normandy_ 's incapacitation: the vivid dreams, the mysterious crate delivery, Shepard's voice intruding into Sam's mind and the subsequent discussion revealing the shared dreams.

"Shepard controlling the Reapers," Hackett whispered. He stood and began to pace past his window, causing the stream of sunlight to flicker as he passed it. "Knowing Shepard, I can get on board with that idea." He stroked the scruff on his chin. "The question is, can everybody else?"

"This is all speculation right now, sir. Though it does sound crazy, doesn't it?"

Hackett shot him a sideways glance. "We're talking about Shepard here. Does anything surprise you anymore?"

Kaidan chortled. "Yeah, I guess not."

Hackett glanced at the time on his omni-tool. "It's 0530 hours, Major, why don't you get some rest and we'll reconvene at 0800 hours tomorrow?"

Kaidan stood and saluted crisply. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Jacob is waiting downstairs to escort you to your temporary housing." Hackett surprised Kaidan by returning his salute. "You've done great work, Major Alenko. It's great to have you home."

"It's great to be home, sir."

Kaidan spun on his heel and left Hackett's office, trying to hold the pieces of his heart together as he thought of Shepard.


	10. Blaming the Faultless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I must apologize for how long it's taken me to post this! I do have another chapter in the reserves, so the next one will be posted much quicker. Thank you for your continued patience! I'd also like to send a big thank you out to my friend [Nortonn7](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nortonn7) on here, who stepped in at the last minute to beta.

The alarm on her omni-tool dutifully rang a cheery tune at 0630 hours. Not that she needed it; sleep had thoroughly avoided her bedroom that night. Maybe it had been too occupied with her neighbours, or too frustrated with her mind that was as filled with thoughts as Union Station's platform is with patrons during rush hour.

She lifted her omni-tool in front of her face, basking her mask in an orange glow, and turned off the alarm with a grunt. As a habit she checked her messages, but as it had been for the last month, her inbox was empty. She vaguely recalled Zaeed informing her that the comm network was currently limited to high-ranking members of their respective governments.

She chose not to remind him that she was an Admiral.

It had been an itch in the back of her mind, the thoughts of the other Admirals on the Board with her. Having an explanation for their silence was a relief, a feeling which preceded the guilt at their absence in her thoughts.

She stood from the bed - better than military quality, with two white down pillows, white high thread-count sheets, and a white down comforter - and exited the white-walled bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, the furnishings were utilitarian: bed, small closet, dresser, desk with an Alliance-issued terminal. There were only two other rooms: the bathroom (sink, toilet, standing shower) and the living area, which was combined with the kitchen. The floors were laminate, the counters faux marble, and the walls were painted white. The Spartan style was very quarian, with the exception of the size - on the flotilla, five living areas would have fit in her one. She resented having so much room to herself when, in the current state, so many were grateful for a bed roll on a spot of ground.

Perhaps it was time to let go of her sensibilities; after all, the quarians had reclaimed Rannoch and she still aspired to build a home there, one day. A home that, she decided at that moment, would have walls in any colour but white.

Her nutrient paste provided the exact same blandness as it did every other day. She errantly wondered if her taste buds even worked anymore, or if they had just retired from disuse.

At 0700 hours, she was out the door and on the elevator taking her downstairs. Evidently the designers of this apartment had access to superior elevator technology than either Cerberus or the Alliance, for it took her to the ground floor from the seventeenth floor in half the time that either iteration of the  _Normandy_  would have taken to get from the fourth floor to the second.

She briefly marveled that she had gone an entire half an hour without thinking of Shepard. Perhaps her brain had grown weary of the topic after mulling over it for the entire evening.

When the elevator slipped to the ground floor, she began to hear voices. Many of them. Hundreds, if she had to guess. The elevator door opened to the lobby, and at the end of the lobby were a series of glass rotating doors. Beyond the doors were dozens of reporters, faces smushed against the glass so they could catch a glance of her. The moment she took a step forward, their omni-tools flashed like a strobe light. She rolled lithely behind the cover of a wall, jumping in surprise when she found herself face-to-face with James Vega.

"Dios mio, someone who's not a reporter," he grumbled.

"How long have they been out there?" she hissed.

"Since 1000 hours yesterday. Guess your window faced the back of the place, I couldn't sleep last night those idiots were so loud."

"What do they want?"

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Something none of us have: answers."

Cortez rolled into place beside them, breathless. "Hey guys, thought I'd join the party. How does Hackett think we'll get around this mob?"

"That's what I'm here for."

That deep rumble of a voice, that was both terrifying and comfortably familiar, could only be... "Grunt!" Tali cried, leaping to her feet so she could attempt to wrap her arms around his wide frame.

"Good to see you, Tali," he murmured into her ear, nearly crushing her when he returned her embrace. "I'm sorry about Shepard." When he released her, she grabbed her aching ribs but smiled up at him in spite of herself.

Without effort, his voice resonated throughout the lobby. "You can all come out now."

Various crew members' heads poked out of corners, the relief clear when their gazes found their krogan bodyguard. He was wearing heavy armour and was equipped with a full arsenal of weaponry. Two equally armed krogan had pushed through the masses to enter the building and stood sentinel by the doors.

"I'll lead us to HQ, Gavort will take rearguard and Montork will stay mid pack. Nobody wander off or these idiots will be over you like varren on pyjak meat. Move out!"

The krogan dwarfed the rest of the team as they took their places. As soon as the doors opened, Tali's ears were barraged with questions, none of which were particularly pleasant.

"Is Commander Shepard with you?" "Is it true the  _Normandy_  abandoned Shepard at the Crucible?" "Can we take a statement on the rumours that the  _Normandy_ crew has been hiding for a month in shame?" "Spectre Alenko, can you tell us what was going through your mind when you ran away from Earth?" "Admiral Zorah, why did you let the ship leave without the man you love?"

"Enough!" Grunt roared; the pathetic media cowered in his wake. "Leave these people alone!"

To Tali's great surprise, they did.

 

* * *

 

 

With Grunt at the lead to push through the throngs of reporters and civilians alike, they eventually breached the crowd to reach the British Library. The massive doors closed behind them with a  _whoosh_ , and they were plunged into silence. Well, as silent as it could get with dozens of Alliance personnel milling about.

To Tali's great surprise, Hackett was there to personally escort them to the meeting, accompanied by Zaeed and the man she quickly recognized from Earth as Major Coats. The krogan fell back to the rearguard, and the crew followed Hackett and his escorts to a large conference room. She was rewarded with a smile from the human Admiral when she scanned the room for bugs; she shook her head disapprovingly when she found four, all from different sources. Grunt crushed them in his palms and tossed them out an open window, closing it afterwards to prevent any eager ears from listening.

"Gavort, Montork, outside," he grumbled. His subordinates nodded in affirmation and took their places outside the door, and he took his place inside the door. Tali slipped into a seat between Steve and Kaidan near the head of the table; glasses of water were already in place before them.

"Thank you all for coming," Hackett began. "The Battle for Earth may be over, but the war is not. As you learned on the way here, there are more obstacles than the Reapers that we still have to overcome." His rough palms gripped the side of the table. "There are many who doubt the validity of what happened with Shepard. It's not much, but Coats, Massani and I are here to make your lives as simple as possible while we work towards recovery for all of our races.

"First and foremost, I would like to make an announcement regarding Shepard." Tali's spine stiffened, almost painfully. "I regret to announce that he's been designated as killed in action. Too much time has passed for us to assume that he survived the Battle for Earth." Hackett's brows pinched together and the corners of his mouth turned down. "I'm sorry. I know how much he meant to all of you." His eyes briefly darted towards Tali before scanning the rest of the crew. "I wanted all of you to know before we made the news public. We'll be increasing the protection around your designated living quarters to prevent any... incidents with the public."

"Do they really think Shepard's..." Joker paused to swallow before uttering the next word, "death is because we left him on the Crucible?"

"The public likes to speculate," Hackett responded, "And they like to blame the faultless."

Joker's gaze fell, his jaw tightening. "We had no choice."

"The Alliance knows that. I know that. So do your respective governments. It's the ungrateful bastards whose asses you and Shepard saved that don't."

Tali needed to vomit. Shepard was dead, and she and the crew were receiving the blame for it because they ran away? What sort of justice is that?

It truly took great effort for her to pay attention for the remainder of the meeting while she seethed over Shepard's designation as KIA and the political fallback. At length, they discussed the  _Normandy_ 's tale from crash to resuscitation as well as the Reapers' inexplicable behaviour. Finally, they - well, mostly Kaidan, Hackett, and Coats - developed an 'action plan' for their next steps in Earth's recovery. She was grateful when Hackett closed the meeting by saying, "You have all gone above and beyond the call of duty, and you're heroes in the eyes of the Alliance. If you're tired of the scrutiny and you're ready to go home, we won't blame you. But Earth needs all the help it can get right now, and anything you can offer would be greatly appreciated.

"For those of you who wish to stay on Earth, we'll reconvene at the same time and place next week. In the meantime," he opened his omni-tool and waved it around the room, "you've all been fitted with a private messaging system, restricted to trusted Alliance soldiers and  _Normandy_ crew members both past and present. It uses short-range radio waves so it won't cover you much farther than London, but it's a hell of a lot better than nothing. I'll send you interim status reports and assignments through that. Any questions?"

With a murmuring chorus of 'no's, they followed Grunt out of the room and back to their building.

 

* * *

 

 

Tali'Zorah couldn't sleep, again. The room was too quiet. The bed was too comfortable. The apartment was too dark and empty. But most of all, she couldn't get the image out of her mind of Shepard buried under a pile of rubble, grasping to the last strings of life.

It was difficult to admit to herself, but she knew in her heart that he was dead. She knew it the moment the  _Normandy_ passed out of the Sol system without Shepard on board. Yet she had propelled herself through weeks of working on the ship's repairs by clinging to the fragment of hope that he would be alive, that she would come back to Earth and he would be waiting at the docks for her with open arms.

Those hopes were futile, and she had known that all along. Hackett's words the day before were still a dagger through her heart, tearing out the last of her hope and replacing it with a bleak emptiness.

_Go to the Normandy, Tali._

Her upper body lifted out of the bed with a snap, and she cried out, "Lights on!"

The room lit with a flash, but there was no one in there with her. The voice... so clearly, it had been Shepard's. It could have been him lying beside her in bed, whispering a story to lull her to sleep. He wasn't in the room with her, but without a doubt he was in her head.

It didn't hit her as hard as it had hit Samantha, but she was still overwhelmed by a wave of dizziness accompanied by nausea. She closed her eyes and took a series of calming breaths to push down the spinning sensation in her head.

When she opened her eyes again, the room had managed to right itself. Perhaps the words were a trap by the Reapers, but she needed to find out herself.

She left the apartment, took the elevator down with crossed arms and a persistently tapping foot, and entered the empty lobby. She must have been very lucky, because the media mob had dissipated and she was left alone with her thoughts during the brief trek to the ship. The night air outside her suit was cool, the air heavy with the threat of rain. The city was eerily quiet, filled with too few people and too many ghosts.

Taking a brisk pace, she reached the  _Normandy_ quickly; she was relieved to find it untouched. Two Alliance guards were still posted at the entrance to the docking bay, but they swiftly permitted her passage.

Stepping onto the ship was like stepping into her home; as the airlock door closed behind her, she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath of the familiar and slightly sterile air.

Where would Shepard want her to go? She stuck her head in the cockpit, which felt unusually empty without Joker and EDI's presence. She passed through the CIC and checked the War and Comm Rooms, all of which were empty.

_He wants me to go to his quarters._

She cringed at the thought. Those quarters were a place that most of the crew, her especially, had avoided. Sam had been brave enough to go in and quickly grab his hamster, but it had otherwise remained untouched. Entering the elevator, she swallowed and pressed the button marked "1".

Regret filled her the moment she reached the door to his quarters. This was Shepard's area, not hers, and she was imposing on its peace. But where else would he want her to go? She swallowed the heavy lump in her throat and opened the door.

It was empty and silent; even the (persistently empty) fish tank had been turned off. The lights were off and only two emergency lights remained; one which illuminated his Ancestors-forsaken model ship collection and the other, his bed. Hesitant steps carried her deeper into the room, and each piece of him that remained was a sharp pain in her heart. It felt like he had stood up to go out for a routine mission and never returned.

His N7 hoodie was haphazardly thrown over the chair before his terminal. His old Avenger was in pieces on his desk. There was an issue of Fornax face-up on the table beside the chess board, the posing asari's face covered by Joker's untidy scrawl that read, "Enjoy, Commander!". There was an open and empty bottle of beer on his coffee table; she assumed it was a gift from Kaidan. She touched the neck with the tip of her finger and the longing for Shepard filled her so forcefully that she crumpled in half, holding her knees to her chest, silently begging to the Ancestors to bring him back.

Her prayers were ignored.

She didn't know how long she stayed in that spot, but when her joints and back began to ache she knew it was time to move on.

For a fleeting moment she considered abandoning the whole venture, but she knew there was a reason Shepard brought her here so she continued exploring. Engineering was empty - Keelah, she missed the days of hearing Grunt yell about something and Jack coming out of her cubby hole to complain in response - and she briefly stopped at her old work station, remembering her first conversation with Shepard about her feelings.

The crew deck was last; she took her time to check every room, remembering the way they looked with the personalization of their last inhabitants.

When she entered the battery, she heard a sharp intake of breath and realized immediately that she was not alone. Instinctively, her spine stiffened her hand drifted to her Predator at her hip; she prepared to remove it from its holster and -

"It's me, Tali."

Garrus. She let out a sigh of relief and her hand pulled away from her pistol. But something was still off; his subvocals were strained, alarmingly so.

"What are you doing here, Garrus?"

She finally spotted him in the dim emergency lighting, tucked in one of the deep corners and seated on a crate. For the first time she saw him with his visor off, gripped in his bare hands. He spun the visor in his talons, watching its movement with sharp eyes.

"Can't sleep on human beds. Too soft, all the wrong angles." Although he said it as a joke, his tone was flat; something was very wrong. She approached him tentatively, taking a seat on a crate adjacent to his.

"Is everything alright, Garrus?"

She awaited his deflection; he wasn't a man who admitted when something was wrong, he preferred to brush it off with a joke. But now... something was wrong, very wrong.

"Garrus?"

"At the meeting." The visor twisted in his hands, his eyes never leaving it. "Hackett said... he said that nobody on the Citadel except for the damn Council made it out."

Her hand found his shoulder and squeezed. "My father and sister," he continued in lower tones, "Were on Palaven when it was hit by the Reapers. I hadn't heard from them for so long I thought..." He shook his head. "I thought they didn't make it. So many didn't make it. About two weeks before the battle for Earth, I heard from Solana. They were alive. I encouraged them to go to the Citadel, thinking it was the safest place." His last words trailed off into a whisper filled with despair.

"My mother died, Tali, after we had taken down the Collector Base." His grip became so tight on his visor she thought he might break it. "My home planet was destroyed by the Reapers. My closest friend died fighting them. Now my father and sister are gone too. Is there no end to the destruction?"

She had been where he is now. She had watched her mother and her father die, as well as many of her people during the effort to retake Rannoch. She had lost Shepard, too. Because of that, she knew that there were no words that could ease the pain; she simply reached her arms around his wide shoulders, easing his head onto her chest while she ran her fingers over his fringe.

He didn't cry, he didn't keen, he simply closed his eyes and privately mourned for the many that he had lost.

"You have me, Garrus," she whispered, to herself as much as him.

He knew that he did.

He knew.


	11. Morning Visitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my friend norton7 for once again betaing, and thank you to everyone for your reviews on my last chapter!

James awoke abruptly to three firm knocks on his door.

"I'm coming," he grumbled, disentangling himself from his bed sheets.

There were three more knocks, which sounded even more urgent.

"I'm coming!" He pulled on the nearest pair of pants, forgoing socks and a shirt, and stumbled groggily towards the door. Years of military training left him alert by the time he opened it; alert enough to be immediately shocked at his early morning intruder.

"Hey muscles, took you long enough. Nice pants. Can I come in?"

He frowned when he looked down at his plaid pajama pants; upon closer inspection, he had dressed backwards. His early morning intruder didn't bother waiting for his answer and let herself in; by the time he had closed and locked the door, she was laying on her back on his couch, her heavy boots dangling over the arm.

"Good morning to you too, tats."

Jack kicked off her boots, sending them flying towards his door, spraying dirt in their wake. She wore no socks. "Coffee?" she asked.

Typical. She hadn't even told him why she was here at 0500 hours, and she was demanding coffee.

"It's instant and tastes like  _culo_ ," James warned her.

Too familiar with coffee that resembled sludge, she shrugged and said, "Better than nothing." He sighed in resignation and started a kettle.

"So, what brings you to my humble abode at this hour?"

"Heard you guys were in town and I wanted to see what the fuck was going on. I haven't heard shit in weeks."

"And you had to visit at an ungodly hour because..."

"I was up."  _And I missed you._

"...Right. Want some eggs?"

"That would be fucking great."

He began to busy himself in the kitchen as a distraction from her presence. Their shared kiss outside Shepard's apartment on the Citadel was still very fresh in his mind as he violently whisked a half dozen eggs in a bowl.

"So, what the fuck happened to you guys after Earth? You've been gone for almost a month with no word."

"We crashed on Eden Prime." He buttered a pan and turned on the burner. "Lost all of the Normandy's power. No comms, no water, no nav, nothing."

"Sounds like a shitty situation."

"It was." The kettle whistled, so he poured grounds in a mug and poured in the boiling water. "Cream or sugar?" He called to Jack.

"Black's fine. So how did you end up here?"

He walked the mug over to her and set it on the table beside her. "That's... a bit of a long story."

"I've got time." She grasped the mug in her hands and blew on it to cool it down.

As he prepared and served the eggs, he began to regale their story, from crash to package delivery to travelling back to Earth. He wasn't afraid to get into the outlandish details; if Shepard had trusted Jack, so would he. She was unusually silent as she listened to his tale, simply sipping at her cooling coffee while she absorbed the information.

"So everybody thinks Shepard's turned into a Reaper God?"

James couldn't help the rolling laugh that escaped him. "Haven't heard it put that way but... this  _is_ Loco we're talking about, nothing comes as a surprise with that guy.

"So," he continued, "how are the students doing?"

"We've been helping rebuild where we can," she responded through a mouthful of eggs. "Everyone's going fucking stir crazy though. They miss the fight."

"Can't blame 'em."

"Yeah, I get it, I miss it too."

They lapsed into silence while they finished their meals. For a pair who didn't know each other well, they felt unusually comfortable in each other's presence; perhaps it was the mutual experience of being on Shepard's crew, or the implied trust that came with that responsibility. Whatever it was, they were both grateful for it.

"We should go out some time," James quietly suggested.

"Where?" Jack responded with a cocked brow. "Pretty sure all the bars are blown to shit."

He laughed uncomfortably at the obvious oversight. "Alright, let's stay in and watch a vid some time."

Her hard gaze softened. "I think I'd like that." Part of her went into this expecting that they would fuck; it was a bit of a relief that he was once again proving to be more of a gentleman than that. Before their breakfast sojourn, she hadn't been asked out on a date in... She couldn't even recall how long.

Fuck, she barely knew the guy and she already had a schoolgirl crush on him. It was pathetic, really.

Her plate empty, she stood to make her exit. "I gotta go. Got plans with the kids today. Let's do that vid… thing, though."

Without bothering to lace her boots, she was out the door in a flash, leaving a confused and gaping James in her wake.

 

* * *

 

 

Tali began her morning in a similar fashion, with three knocks at her door. She, however, was awake, and the knocker was much less insistent. She was no less surprised at who her visitor was.

"Jacob?"

"Morning, Tali. Sleep well?"

"Fine, thank you." She hadn't.

"I brought you a coffee and some nutrient paste." He held out a tray with two coffees, as well as a brown paper bag with rations. "I was hoping for eggs, but this was the only dextro ration I could get my hands on."

She smiled up at him. "Would you like to come in?"

"That would be great, thanks."

He removed his boots and entered, the door closing gently in his wake. The small living space was meticulously clean and tidy; there wasn't an askew painting or a mote of dust to be found.

She knew that he was there for a reason - they had been cordial at best on the SR-2 - so she got straight to the point. "What can I do for you, Jacob?"

He averted his gaze uncomfortably. "After I had to break the news to you about Shepard… I was worried."

Jacob, worried about her? The man who had rubbed an AI's presence in her face on her first day back aboard the  _Normandy_? She wasn't so naive to simply believe him. "It wasn't what I'd call a surprise," she replied shortly.

His uncomfortable expression persisted. "Did Shepard ever tell you that he and I served together before the  _Normandy_?"

"He told me about a mission in batarian space that went sideways."

"We served together for a little longer than that. I was his subordinate for most of it. He always put on that show of being indestructible and infallible, but you and I know that he wasn't."

Ancestors, how she hated hearing him spoken about in the past tense.

"I've always tried to watch his back, you know? So when you came aboard, and I saw the way that he looked at you - like you were the only person on the ship - I was a little weary. I didn't understand how he could trust a quarian so much."

Was he trying to make her feel better by implying his lack of trust in her, or was he admitting his jealousy? Not that she was entirely innocent: Jacob's employment by Cerberus left her wary of the operative from the get-go. But Shepard had insisted that Jacob was a reliable old friend, and she trusted Shepard's judgment so she set her qualms aside. She was also sure that Shepard had tried to bestow confidence in her to Jacob, but perhaps due to the initial lack of trust a friendship between them had been simply too much to ask for.

"But things change," he continued. "You two became more than friends, and although Shepard was my friend, I wasn't going to stand in the way. I didn't understand how he could focus his energy on a relationship with everything that was happening... but then I met Brynn. Suddenly I understood that the time to take chances and fall in love is when you don't know if there will be a future. Now we're expecting a son." His gaze was fixed on the ground and a soft smile crept up at the corners of his lips. "I got to see her for the first time yesterday since the Battle. It was a short comm session, but God, Tali, it's like seeing the sun when you've been under the cover of clouds for weeks." His eyes slowly travelled to fix on hers. "But after I said goodbye to her, all I could think of was you. You lost your sun so that he could make sure the rest of the galaxy kept theirs.

"So I guess what I wanted to say is this. I'm sorry for the way that I've treated you in the past. I judged you unfairly, and you blew all of my expectations out of the water. It's not much to offer, but if you need anything at all, I'm here."

Although Tali was confused, she was also touched. Perhaps she had been too rash with her own judgments of the Cerberus Operative. Perhaps they could work to rebuild their friendship, just as they would work to rebuild Earth. At very least she would make the effort, for Shepard. Jacob was an old friend, and he had made Shepard's transition back into the living world much easier, a fact she had often forgotten. "I'll remember that," she said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Will you be seeing Brynn soon?"

"I hope so," he said with a wry smile. "Earth needs me right now, but so does she. We're going to try and get her transported here as soon as we can."

"I'm glad." She was, truly. Although she wished with an aching intensity that she could see Shepard again so easily.

Shepard's voice slipped into her mind, like a foot into a well-fitted boot. This time she wasn't startled; it felt more like an expected visitor than an unwanted intruder.

_I wish the same_.

 

* * *

 

 

"Clan Leader, we have a problem."

Urdnot Wreav watched his second-in-command warily while he tore an impressive strip from his roasted varren leg. "What is it, Thurak?"

Thurak shifted uneasily from foot to foot; he was brave, but any krogan would waver under the watchful gaze of Wreav. He was known as the saviour of the krogan people; he was also known as excessively violent with a short temper. "The first clutch isn't hatching."

"What?" he roared, standing and throwing his varren leg to the ground. His pet varren stepped out from the shadows, sniffed the cooked leg of his kin, and began to feast on it. "What do you mean, it isn't hatching?"

"They're all dead."

His eyes narrowed to slits and the rest of his words were reduced to a whisper. "The genophage wasn't cured."

"We'd have to see the next clutches, but likely, no."

Wreav let out a bellowing roar, grabbing his pet varren and throwing him against a wall. It was dead instantly. His blood rage had just begun; he reached for his Spike Thrower, but Thurak threw his arm out to stop him.

"Taking it out on krogan solves nothing," Thurak hissed between gritted teeth. "We know who did this. We know who deceived us."

Wreav's breath was coming in rapid gasps and his eyes were blazing; Thurak thought they were going to come to blows until his breathing began to slow. Like a fire left alone with too little wood, the wildness in his eyes began to diminish. "Yes. It was Shepard."

One of Wreav's Blood Pack bodyguards growled, "Shepard's dead."

"I know that," Wreav spat. "But he didn't work alone. He had that salarian doctor with him. He was the brains. That..."

"Mordin Solus."

"Him," Wreav growled. He turned to face Thurak, pushing his finger into his chest. "Find Solus. If you can't find him, bring me one of Shepard's cronies." His face was within inches of Thurak's. "I want him alive."

"I'll get my best men on it."

If Solus wasn't dead already, he'd want to be by the time Wreav found him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with many of my fellow Bioware fans, I'm currently engrossed in Inquisition and thus haven't devoted an appropriate amount of creative brainpower to Mass Effect. There will likely be a delay before the next chapter due to this, however I will do my absolute best to post as soon as I can!


	12. Pillars of Salt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My very slowly progressing post-ME3 fic is finally updating again! Damn you, writer's block. A huge thank you goes to my friend norton7 for stepping in and beta-ing for this chapter.

_Garrus despised hospitals._

_It was the overwhelming sterile baby powder scent, disguising the blood and excrement that could be found in most rooms. It was the white noise of beeping heart monitors, pounding paramedics' shoes, and moaning patients, either from pain genuine or fabricated. It was the pity on the face of every doctor and nurse when they passed you, knowing they had been keeping you too long, and knowing either you or a loved one had to be suffering for you to end up there. It was the self-righteousness in the patients, believing that their problems were worse than yours without knowing your situation._

_"You're ready to go now, sir," a patient nurse said to the man in the bed adjacent to his mother's._

_"Good." He rose -- he was elderly and did so with the nurse's assistance -- and cracked his back. "I've been here for seven hours, I'm ready to go home to my breakfast sandwich. You know those paramedics wouldn't even let me eat my sandwich? They said it might upset my stomach. My stomach's been fine! It's my damn shoulder. You know, I was..."_

_Garrus sighed and turned away, attempting -- and failing -- to drown him out._

_His eyes searched for his mother's. They were fixed to the clock, watching each agonizingly slow second pass as they awaited news from the doctor. Solana was directly beside Garrus; a book lay open on her lap, yet she hadn't flipped a page in almost half an hour. His father had been pacing, but after receiving a less than gentle warning from a paramedic that he was in their way, he begrudgingly found a chair to occupy. He now was staring at his hands, which were bouncing with the motion of his leg, up-and-down, impatience wrought in his tense movements._

_"Mrs. Vakarian, my name is Doctor Jang."_

_The moment that the salarian doctor entered the room, the tension in the family was palpable in their stiffened spines and alert gazes._

_The doctor cleared his throat. Garrus grasped one of his mother's hands -- a soldier's hands turned more frail than ever -- and Solana, the other._

_Doctor Jang's eyes were fixed on her datapad. Garrus cursed salarians for being so unreadable as the doctor patiently read over his mother's charts._

_"I'm sorry, Mrs. Vakarian. It's Corpalis Syndrome."_

_Garrus's eyes closed; his mother's hand weakly squeezed his; his sister emitted a noise between a squeak and a sob; his father slammed his closed fist onto the bedside table, sending his wife's glass of water tumbling to the ground, where it shattered with a crash that cut the tension in the room like a knife._

_"Corpalis," his mother whispered, her subvocals broken, at the same time as his father growled the same word in the tone he used when he had been told a dangerous criminal had escaped C-Sec's clutches. He was angry, and slightly baffled._

_Garrus tried not to keen. His father would chastise him for weakness if he keened. But this was his mother. This was Corpalis. A disease with no cure, where she would deteriorate before her family's eyes._

_Doctor Jang began to speak, of experimental treatments that had been proven to extend Corpalis patients' lives, of specialized diet and exercise routines, of her life expectancy. Garrus didn't hear a word of what Jang was saying; his gaze fixed to the ground he stood, muttering that he needed to be excused, insisting that he needed fresh air._

_He trudged out of the room, his neck and back rigid as he held himself back from running, his throat raw from the cries that needed to be torn from it. As soon as he was out of sight from his family he ran, sprinted, through the winding hospital hallways, past empty beds, past the triage nurses. He shoved open the glass doors and fell to his knees when he finally reached the outdoors. And he screamed, to everything and to nothing._

_He screamed that a galaxy could exist that was so unjust that it gave his mother Corpalis Syndrome._

 

* * *

 

 

The Alliance's so-called "Memorial Wall" was a fucking embarrassment.

 

The Memorial Wall on the Normandy had both purpose and ceremony. Each time a name had to be added, Shepard would personally add it, offering the crew the opportunity to say what words they had about their fallen comrade before saying a few words of his own.

 

There were always tears; not from Shepard, never from Shepard. His words were able to create tears in others, although no words or consequences were able to make the great Commander Shepard falter.

 

This, though? How can this be considered an honour to the fallen? They had taken the largest piece of the Citadel that they could find, a hulking mass of metal, and they projected the billions of names of those lost across it, scrolling upwards. Each name had but its few seconds of spotlight before it would disappear, buried in the mass of the dead, to return an hour later to have its moment again.

 

More precisely, each name was displayed for seven seconds, and would reappear every fifty-seven minutes.

 

Garrus had been counting as he sat across from it, staring at his hands until his father's and sister's names had their turn.

 

His talons clenched into fists. He hated his hands. He loathed his hands. He vilified his hands. For they had betrayed him, able only to kill and never to save.

 

With them -- more precisely, with a rifle held within them -- he had killed countless geth, Collectors, Reapers, Cerberus cronies, mercenaries, thieves, criminals. He had done a damn good job of it, too. Natural born killer. Remorseless when just. Protector of the innocent.

 

Innocent strangers, that is. Yet when it came to innocent family members, innocent loved ones, what had he done?

 

He had run away, just like he had run away from his mother's hospital bed so many years ago. Just like he had run away to Omega when Shepard, and his purpose, was lost.

 

He was a coward.

 

He was a Spirits-forsaken coward, and as such, he had no place among those who had, time and time again, shown their strength and bravery.

 

Tali would not have chosen to run, to leave Shepard alone at the Crucible. She would have perished to have the smallest chance of saving not only Shepard, but the billions aboard the Citadel -- his father and sister included.

 

Shepard would have... done what Shepard always did. Displayed incorrigible selflessness in the face of innocence. Wrought vengeance upon those who preyed on the weak. No wonder the Reapers never stood a chance.

 

The truth was laid before him, yet he had always denied the evidence while on the  _Normandy_ ; he was cut from a different cloth than the rest of those he fought beside against the geth, the Collectors, the Reapers. He had no place among their ranks.

 

He abandoned her mother, left her alone in her time of greatest need so that he would not have to face the pain himself. He discouraged his father and sister from displaying the bravery he didn't possess, begging them to run to a shelter that was soon destroyed.

 

"Garrus."

 

Somehow, she must have known the darkness of his musings; from behind him, her tone was already stern. His shoulders tensed but he didn't look up.

 

"Tali."

 

"What you're doing right now? Blaming yourself for their deaths?" She took a step forward. "Stop. Just stop."

 

Her words were as cold as Noveria, colder than he had ever heard from the warm woman.

 

"Were it so simple," he muttered, low enough to be meant for only himself, and not for her.

 

She must have heard him anyways, for she retorted, "It's not. But you'll drive yourself crazy if you let it consume you. I've been there. I know."

 

Guilt caused his jaw to clench and his stomach to tighten. She had been there. She had discovered her father's corpse. She had lost her mother. She had lost Shepard.

 

The bench shook when she occupied the vacated seat beside him. "Blame the Reapers. Blame--" She audibly swallowed. "Blame Shepard if you have to. You should still miss them and mourn them, but unless it's your hand that shot down your father and your sister -- which it wasn't -- then you must take the blame away from yourself."

 

His shoulders began to tremble from the keen he withheld. Covering his face with his hands, he dug his heels into his tired eyes, warding off a growing headache. Tali may have been right, but this wasn't a problem that would be banished by the right words.

 

"What would your father say if he saw you like this?" she prodded.

 

Pulling his hands away from his eyes, he replied in a strained tone, "He'd be disappointed, I'm sure."

 

She stood swiftly, and he gazed incredulously at her outstretched hand. An offering of aid at a time when he needed it the most.  He knew that she needed the support just as badly as he did; she, too, had lost her parents, and she, too, had lost Shepard.

 

She did not have to be alone in this fight, and neither did he.

 

A building cannot be held up by a singular pillar.

 

He grasped her hand and lightly hoisted himself up, the touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary before their hands slipped apart.

 

"Ready to go see Kaidan?"

 

Although her question was lighthearted, he knew the words that were left unspoken.

 

Was he ready to take on the battles that were still to come?

 

Sparing a last glance at the Memorial Wall, he knew the answer to both the questions spoken and unspoken.

 

With her at his side, he was.

 

* * *

 

 

"Come in."

 

Tali followed Garrus into Kaidan's office. The room was the size of a broom closet -- in fact, that was likely its previous purpose -- and just like Hackett's office, it was filled with paperwork. The Major was typing furiously at his terminal, his heavy brows set into a furrow, dark bags lining his sincere eyes. He closed his eyes, hit the 'send' key with a flourish, and shut down his terminal to face his visitors.

 

"Thanks for coming, guys. I would offer you a seat, but..." he gestured to the area in front of his desk, occupied with boxes of datapads instead of chairs. "I'm a little short on space."

 

Garrus waved away the unnecessary pleasantries. "It's just us, Kaidan, we're good at standing."

 

A smile ghosted across Kaidan's weary features before slipping away into an expression of business. "Although the Reapers have retreated, the rest of the galaxy hasn't been plunged into the peace we all dreamed of. A situation has arisen, and due to my status as a Spectre, it's my duty to answer to the Council's call when necessary. It damned sure doesn't help that we lost well over half the Spectres in the war."

 

"Do you need us to take over anything here while you're gone?" Garrus asked. Tali smiled to herself; she was pleased that he was taking her words to heart and jumping to action.

 

"Thank you, but I think I have all of my bases covered. I need to... ask your permission about a matter, actually." He pursed his lips, visibly uncomfortable with the request he was about to make. "I want to take the Normandy on this mission. I can't divulge too much information on its nature, but I can tell you that it's going to require a degree of stealth, which the--"

 

Tali held her palm up to stop his nervous prattling. "The Normandy is as much yours as it is ours. Why do you need to ask permission to take it?"

 

Averting his gaze, he rubbed the back of his neck. "I feel like I'm doing Shepard a disservice by taking his ship. He and I were close, but not as close as he was to either of you, and I didn't want to cause offense by taking the ship." He omitted the fact that he didn't want them believing that he was taking Shepard's place, either. During their time on Eden Prime he had become a de facto Commander out of the necessity for guidance, but he knew that he wasn't -- and never would be -- Shepard. One day, he would command his own vessel and his own team, but even when that day came he would compare himself to Shepard and the loyalty he earned from the least likely places.

 

"Of course you can take the ship," Tali said softly, adding, "If Hackett permits it."

 

"He's already approved my request." Without a doubt, the endless hours and late nights he had poured into rebuilding efforts helped expedite the process. "I'm making a stop at Eden Prime on my return trip as well."

 

Tali's expression brightened. "Thank you for checking in on Javik and Liara for us."

 

"I wonder how many times Javik has called the colonists 'primitives'," Garrus mused.

 

"Too many, I'm sure," Kaidan responded, the corner of his lip rising into a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

 

Swallowing the lump in her throat that always rose at the topic, Tali inquired, "Will you be back for Shepard's memorial next month?"

 

From the corner of her eye, she saw Garrus' mandibles flicker at the mention of the memorial. Although it was brought up only recently by Coats, it was an inevitable necessity. Shepard -- or at very least, his body -- was gone, and the civilians needed to see the military pay tribute. He needed to pass from a hero to a martyr, regardless of how greatly those close to him disliked the ceremony of the matter.

 

Especially with his true status so uncertain.

 

Kaidan's shoulders fell, burdened by the weight of the inevitability. "I won't leave you alone to deal with that," he promised, his eyes downcast, their shared dislike hanging in the air unspoken.

 

"We'll let you get back to work, Kaidan," Garrus suggested, dissipating the tension.

 

"Send us a wave as soon as you get back."

 

He smiled briefly before re-opening his terminal, illuminating his worn features. Tali could have sworn that she spotted a few new grey hairs in the sea of black.

 

* * *

 

 

Tali and Garrus left the library together and approached the ration distribution center in camp. Although Garrus had jibed about Javik in Kaidan's office, there was an unbeforeseen exhaustion and worry to him since the news of his father and sister. She wanted nothing more than to erase the misery from his features, restoring the confidence that he used to wear as a shield.

 

He was a man who had built up his defenses, brick by brick, over the years. At times, she doubted if he even truly let Shepard penetrate the wall; with certainty, she knew that Garrus had never truly let her in.

 

Yet Shepard wanted her to try to breach his defenses. She recalled his voice in her head this morning, begging for her intervention in their friend's grief. "Be the overload to his shields," Shepard had said with a dry, humourless laugh.

 

She appreciated Shepard's persistent concerns, yet the why of the matter remained muddled. After the events on the Crucible, everyone had varying levels of grief to battle with, so why was Shepard so fixated on her helping Garrus? During the day he would intrude into her thoughts, reminding her to remain sentinel over him, and in her sleep Shepard would send Garrus to her in dreams. She was unsure if the images Shepard showed her were real, but he always showed her Garrus grieving, alone.

 

She was baffled. Their theories of Shepard's intrusions were strong, but with no one had she discussed the increasing rapidity of his presence in her mind. It made her feel that she was losing a part of herself, becoming a vessel for Shepard's concerns.

 

Yet she didn't resist, submitting to his requests. He had shown her the righteous path for so long, she had faith he would not lead her amiss this time.

 

Dodging a camera-laden press reporter, they ducked into the central most camp. The despairing rush of the previous weeks had diminished as those who chose to stay in London settled into a semblance of a routine. Several civilians nodded, or even smiled, at their passing.

 

Perhaps a few existed who didn't believe that they were the sole cause of Shepard's death.

 

Without exchanging a word they joined the dextro line for their lunch rations. Since so many had left the masses in droves, both the quality and the quantity of their meals had increased, and as a result, those who waited in line were patient and calm.

 

Life, as muddled as it was in the wake of the war, was beginning to settle into itself again. Even after the greatest of tragedies, organics craved their routine, their simplicity, their normalcy.

 

As if on cue Shepard's voice returned, a quiet whisper like a rock breaking the tide.

 

_Follow the lost woman._

 

Immediately her eyes roamed through the crowd, searching for she who Shepard seeked. Another broken soul for her to take under her wing, perhaps?

 

The search was brief before Tali spotted her. She was facing away from Tali, speaking in a low voice to a quarian ahead of them in line while she indicated to a datapad in hand. The woman wore tattered overalls, her dark, dirty hair pulled away from her face.

 

When the quarian shook his head she sighed and turned to the next person in line, an older turian woman, trying her luck with the next refugee.

 

"Have you seen this girl?" Tali heard the woman ask. Her voice was strained but familiar.

 

Very familiar.

 

"Garrus." She tilted her head towards the woman, drawing his attention to her. His sharp gaze was drawn to the woman, and he started when he focused on her with his visor.

 

His surprise was so great, he turned to a human expletive. "Shit!"

 

Tali hushed him, but she was too late. The woman turned to face them, her expression so drawn she was nearly unrecognizable. Heavy bags beset her intelligent eyes, her skin pale and ashen, her clothes covered with a thick layer of dust. Those eyes widened when they fixed upon the pair, and her mouth opened and closed but no word came out.

 

"Tali?" the woman managed to hoarsely whisper; over the crowd, she had to strain to hear. "Garrus?" She tucked the datapad under her arm and rushed over to them, embracing Garrus first, her bloodshot eyes wet with thick tears. When she reached Tali their eyes met briefly before she hugged her so close that it pulled the breath out of Tali's lungs, her fingertips digging into Tali's suit, her breath heavy with gasping sobs.

 

It was Garrus who was first pulled out of the incredulous silence.

 

"...Miranda?"


	13. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest of thank yous goes to norton7, who not only helps me keep this story churning, but she also is a great friend who listens to my constant complaining. So thank you for everything, my dear.
> 
> A big thank you also goes out to reader Swordshade over on ff.net, who made an excellent point regarding my loose use of the canon that the Citadel survives that Control ending. So we will have to accept the Citadel's destruction in Controlling Fate as a personal headcanon.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's stuck with this story so far in spite of my atrocious update schedule.

 

It struck him as incredible that something so simple and so routine as a vid call could wipe the slate clean of any woes and worries, even if just for a moment.

"Brynn." Seeing his love's face, even when blurry, felt like the first breath after drowning.

"Jacob." The palpable relief in her voice indicated that she felt the same.

It had been weeks since their last vid call, due in part to Jacob's additional work load with the arrival of the  _Normandy_ as well as Brynn working overtime to shorten her time on Arcturus.

It had been hell for both of them being apart for so long, worse than Jacob could have fathomed. In spite of the work he was putting in to restructure London, there was still a gaping hole in his heart where Brynn belonged. He knew that, beside it, there was also a second hole where his unborn son belonged.

Brynn stood to showcase her growing belly, now seven months along; he felt a pull towards his son, like that boy had become the center of his universe before he was even born.

It was cruel, but necessary, that he miss these vital moments of development. He wanted, mostly, to sing and speak to Brynn's growing belly, to be a presence before little Landon was born. However, more than anything, he wanted to be the father his own never was.

"It's getting harder to work," she admitted dolefully. "I'm so tired all the time, and my back aches from carrying around this weighted beach ball on my belly all day."

"Is he... is he kicking?" Jacob whispered.

A broad smile lit up her face. "All the time. He's as ready to see you as I am."

Nervously, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Any updates on that?"

She nodded slowly. "The first transport will be leaving for Earth in two weeks, with an estimated one week travel time."

His brow furrowed. "That's cutting it close to the due date."

Her gaze fell. "I know, but I can either take this transport or deliver him here, and-"

"I'd like to be there when he's born."

"And it wouldn't be an obgyn here. I'm requesting to have a medic travel with us. But so far, my doctor here says that the process has been nothing but smooth."

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Being so far away from his pregnant partner had left him tense and sleepless, and any bit of news eased a part of that tension. "Three weeks can't come fast enough."

She smiled broadly, a sight that sent a jolt of pleasure through his stomach. "I couldn't agree more."

A knock resonated from his door, and his heart plummeted at the knowledge that their too brief call was already over. "Looks like I have company. Call me when you can, ok?"

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too."

He expanded his cheeks and puffed out air in impatience, running his hands through his hair. It had begun to grow unruly; he needed a cut and a shave, but both barbers and omni-razors were nigh impossible to obtain.

He heard a knock again, this one more persistent than the last, and he stood and gazed through the peep hole.

Tali and Garrus were standing in his hallway, both shifting their weight nervously, with an unknown woman between them.

Keeping the chain lock on in case this woman was another damn reporter, he opened the door just a crack to get a closer look at the trio.

He nearly leapt out of his socks when he realized that mess of a woman was Miranda.

Steadying his trembling hands, he slid the chain out of the lock and swung open the door.

In a flurry, Miranda pulled him in for an embrace, her unkempt hair tickling his nose.

His eyes shot up to meet Garrus', whose gaze was hard. Jacob asked gently, "What's going on?"

"Can we come in?" Tali requested.

"Of course. Would anyone like tea?"

Muffled by Jacob's uniform, Miranda mumbled, "Please."

Jacob's eyes narrowed.

Something was wrong, very wrong, to put Miranda in such a state. Lips pursed, he guided the three into his quarters.

* * *

 

Garrus' jaw was clenched as he stiffly took a seat in one of Jacob's chairs. He took the mug that was offered, but did not drink from it.

Jacob took a seat beside Garrus, and Miranda and Tali sat across from them. The tension in the small room was palpable, leaving everyone stiff, and averting each other's gazes. Jacob was the first to break the silence, turning to Miranda. "I feel like there's a story here."

"There is." Miranda - stoic, infallible Miranda - was gazing into the depths of her mug of tea, her trembling hands leaving the fluid unsteady. "It's Oriana. She's missing."

"When did she go missing?"

Collecting herself, Miranda exhaled deeply. "It's been two weeks." Her composure somewhat regained, she began that tale that Tali and Garrus had been briefed on during their walk to Jacob's quarters. "When the  _Normandy_ returned to Earth, and Hackett learned of the strange occurrences on Eden Prime, Rear Admiral Coats recruited me to look into the connection between Shepard and the Reapers because of my part in bringing Shepard back." She placed her untouched mug of tea on the nearest table.

Jacob's eyes narrowed. "Does the Alliance think that Cerberus has a role in Shepard's newfound connection with the Reapers?"

"Not necessarily. But Hackett does believe that the implants could affect his connection." Miranda's lips pursed and her brow furrowed. "I was staying in a small, Alliance-provided apartment with Oriana and limited research equipment. We didn't have much to work with - old Cerberus records of the implant technology, mostly - but when we received intel of a colony in the Traverse having non-combative run-ins with Reaper forces, we knew it was something that should be investigated.

"Oriana insisted on investigating herself, with a small Alliance crew and a loaned scouting ship. I knew she was tired of being cooped up, so I agreed to her request." Miranda's gaze fell and her cheeks burned, her frustration with herself evident.

Jacob probed, "And she hasn't returned?"

"No." Miranda's eyes reddened, and she fiercely brushed away the rush of tears with her forearm. "The team dropped out of radio contact as soon as they passed through the relay and I haven't heard from them since. I traveled to the destination colony in the Traverse last week, and she never even made it there."

Garrus drummed his fingertips on the arm of his chair, deep in thought. "The Traverse can be hostile, even in times like this."

Jacob copied Garrus' motion, drumming his fingertips on his lips. "Was that relay secure? Did they pass a test ship through it already?"

"The relay was secure and tested," responded Miranda.

"And when you were in the system, there were no signs of their ship?"

A displeased huff of air escaped Miranda's nose. "There were no signs of any ships. The system was primarily Batarian with only a few small human colonies, most of which were emptied by the Reapers."

Garrus said, "We need to consider the Batarians as a suspect, for the moment. Their numbers are spread out thin, but we know their feelings about human colonies."

"I have to agree," Miranda acquiesced. "The intel could have been planted by the Batarians to lure in the Alliance."

"But why?" Tali asked.

Garrus' eyes narrowed as he recalled their earlier conversation with Kaidan. "We know that Kaidan is being sent out on confidential Spectre business." His gaze met Tali's through her visor. "Could there be a connection?"

"If there is," Tali responded, "We won't know until Kaidan returns, if he can release the information when he does."

Miranda leaned forward, her eyes widening in the faint promise of hope. "Did he say what system he's traveling to? Or was he able to provide any intel at all?"

Garrus shook his head. "Confidential Council matter, you know how it is."

"However..." Tali hung her head, clearly ashamed at what she was about to suggest. "He's taking the  _Normandy_. I could track him, but it would be a violation of his trust."

Jacob sighed. "It's your call, Miranda."

The room slipped into silence, and Garrus considered what he would do in Miranda's situation. Would he violate the trust of his friend, and risk the Council's wrath to provide himself with the slimmest of chances to recover his lost sister?

He thought of Solana; of the little snort she would make when she was laughing really hard, of the way she'd always shoot a bit to the left, of the way that she could hack absolutely anything, of the way she held him when he keened after their mother passed.

If provided with even the smallest glimpse of hope, he would take it. For Sol.

But Sol was gone now, joining the spirit of his family.

Oriana, however, wasn't.

"I would do it," he said. Gesturing at Tali, he added, "We have a resident tech expert who will track him undetected. We don't need to know about the nature of his case, only his destination."

Jacob shifted in his seat. "And what do we do if Kaidan's destination is where Oriana was last found?"

Without hesitating, Miranda said, "Then we need to act."

* * *

 

While Rear Admiral Coats paced, his hands laced behind his back and his gaze fixed before him, his jaw clenched in evident discomfiture, Hackett remained seated, his unbroken veneer of calm frustrating Coats even further.

"The Council disregarded every one of our recommendations in lieu of a puppet of theirs," Coats snarled. He was finding Hackett's calm maddening as the Admiral sipped at his tea, his gaze wandering outside to the ever present rubble and wreckage.

Hackett acquiesced, "They did, and there's not a damn thing we can do about it."

A long sigh escaped Coats as he ceased his pacing to grab the edge of Hackett's desk. "We're in the middle of the largest change humanity's ever seen, and we're putting our people's future in the hands of a bloody  _puppet_."

Hackett's expression became stern as his tone lowered. "And what would you suggest otherwise? In spite of who she is, she's better qualified than anyone else we considered. She's still a human and prioritizes human needs. And we know from Shepard that inter-species fraternization without changing allegiance  _is_  possible."

"Tell that to the geth," hissed Coats.

"Oh, Rear Admiral, how I love when you throw punches you don't understand."

Simultaneously both Coats' and Hackett's heads spun at the sound of the intruding voice, and in the doorway stood the new human Councilor herself.

She let herself in to Hackett's office, her fingertips brushing the few personal effects in his office. Her steps were lithe and cat-like as she approached his desk. "My ears were burning so I thought it may be a suitable time for an introduction." She extended a well-manicured hand towards the abashed Coats, who shook it weakly. "Councilor Monica Adell." Coats noted that she had a Swedish surname paired with a London lilt. She shook Hackett's hand before taking an uninvited seat at his desk. "And what a pleasure it is to meet you both."

Coats shook his head to pull himself together, blown away by the audacity of the new Councilor. Her reputation preceded her, but he had expected light showers, not a bloody storm.

She was tall, enough so to meet him eye-to-eye, with deep grey eyes, prominent cheekbones, a tanned complexion, and short blonde hair pulled back harshly into a tight knot at the back of her neck. According to her files she was sixty-three, but she must have taken immaculate care of herself for she looked closer to her early fifties.

"You're questioning my place on the Council, as expected," Adell said with a sigh.

Coats grumbled, "The fact that you're the lover of Councilor Tevos does raise questions among the Alliance, yes."

Leaning back in her chair, Adell tented her fingers. "And that fact is of more import than my qualifications? I was a human liaison to all three Council species for more than fifteen years before I took Udina's place as Ambassador when he joined the Council. Besides, now more than ever we need interspecies cooperation." She leaned forward now, her grey eyes fierce. "Now is not a time for humanity to stand alone in recovery. We need to work with the other species, as Shepard had us do to bring down the Reapers."

Coats snorted disdainfully, but he knew that she was right and he hated the fact that she was.

Digging into her briefcase and pulling out a datapad, she continued, "Besides, we have more pressing matters than my after hours liaisons. As you are aware, I've assigned Spectre Alenko to travel to the Armstrong Nebula to investigate a missing team."

"We were under the impression this was an Alliance matter," countered Coats, his brow furrowed in displeasure. Neither he nor Hackett had been pleased that the team had disappeared, especially since the assignment had been something they had been trying to keep under wraps.

So much for secrecy.

"So it appeared at first, until we analyzed the origins of the message sent by the human colonists." Her fingers flew over the datapad until she pulled up several lines of code, which she presented to Hackett. His gaze darkened as his eyes flitted side-to-side across the text.

"Batarian," he said darkly.

"How?" Coats asked. "They were all but wiped out."

Tucking the datapad back into her briefcase, Adell continued, "That's exactly why we're concerned. If the Batarians are planning something, they aren't working alone."

Coats met Hackett's gaze, his blue eyes dark with concern. Once again, the Councilor was right: this was not a matter to be taken lightly, and it had the potential to become a matter of galactic security. Doubtless the Batarians had reason to be angry with humans - angry enough to lure them in under a false guise - but with their small numbers, this smelled of something bigger.

But who? Shepard had all but brought every race together, as much of a miracle as it was. Who would have turned against the alliance already forged under fire? He doubted any of the Council races would, seeing as they were all supporting Adell's investigation. He counted out the Volus, knowing their alliance with the Turians was too solid to turn against them. Could it be the Elcor? Hanar? Vorcha? Krogan? Quarian? None of them - other than the batarians - had reason to lash out against humanity, the Krogan least of all after Shepard cured the genophage. Or, worst of all, could it be the Reapers, controlling one of the species to do their bidding and start a war? But if that was the case, that would discount their theories of Shepard controlling them, for Coats knew he would never turn against his own people.

Unless he had lost control of the Reapers already, a thought which terrified him more than any of the races turning against them.

Adell stood, her spine stiff as she exuded every ounce of control over the most precise of movements, the picture of a politician. "This matter requires the utmost discretion, which is why nothing that has been said will leave the room. We'll reconvene with Spectre Alenko upon his return." She briefly shook their hands in turn. "Good afternoon, gentlemen."

When she left Coats released his hold on Hackett's desk and pushed his weight back, realizing that he hadn't moved during the exchange other than to shake her hand in greeting and departure. In a low voice he grumbled, "What a mess."

Although no words had been exchanged between them, Hackett's head fell and he spoke the words that had already begun to weigh heavily on Coats' mind.

"It seems that, even in death, we're relying on Shepard again."

Coats slid into Adell's now vacant seat, his chest heavy with worry. Hackett, on the other hand, leaned back, his lips pursed in thought. "Shepard's... connection, with his crew. Do you think it runs both ways?"

"What do you mean?"

Hackett tented his fingertips, resting his lips upon them. "Do you think the crew can communicate with Shepard the way he's done with them?"

Eyes narrowing, Coats replied, "It's possible, but if Shepard is no longer in control of the Reapers, they too could be controlling his team."

A sigh of frustration escaping him, Hackett leaned back in his chair, his fingers remaining pressed to his lips. "And they, too, could be controlling Kaidan."

"Shit."

The room plunged into silence as they both fell deep into thought. If the Reapers, and not one of their allies, were truly their adversary, they were backed into a corner.

The lengthy silence was broken by Hackett, when he suggested, "Meet with Tali. Have her install surveillance on the  _Normandy_ before it leaves. One way or another, I want to know where it's going and what they find."

Coats stood, saluting swiftly. "Aye aye, sir."

"Dismissed."


	14. New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One year, four months.
> 
> That's how long it's been since I've updated. 
> 
> There aren't enough apologies in the world for my kind readers who have stuck with me so far. I've let you down, and I've let myself down. Yes, life got in the way, as it always has a tendency to do, but I also lost a lot of motivation for this project.
> 
> The good news is, that motivation has been renewed. I will finish this project if it kills me.
> 
> With that being said... this chapter is a bit short. I titled it "New Beginnings" because it's both a new beginning for me, and for a couple of the characters. This will start a couple of arcs that have been brewing.
> 
> Thank you.

For one who carried a reputation as large as Tali’Zorah vas Normandy, sneaking onto the  _ Normandy  _ was less of a matter of sneaking as much as a matter of simply entering. The security guards waved at her in a friendly manner without question as she passed, not bothering to make a request for her identification.

 

Were she not going behind the back of the current commander of the ship, she would inform him that they needed to revise their security measures. She had no clearance beyond her reputation to enter the ship at that time, and an imposter could have easily recreated her suit. 

 

As it were, she entered the silent ship, the door gliding closed behind her. Only the emergency lights were illuminated, and the gentle light of dawn poured in through the cabin, setting the familiar machinery alight. She approached the nav console, attached her homemade tracking device beneath it, and stepped by with a short sigh.

 

There was no hesitation in her actions; her mind had been made up already. The action was a small reparation to Miranda for bringing back Shepard years ago, and going against the Council’s wishes by assisting the Alliance was vindication against the group that were a… what was the idiom Shepard used? “Thorn in my side”? 

 

“Well that’s that,” she muttered to herself. The task proved simple, but she still felt her ears burn with shame at the thought of what she had done. Regardless of her justification, she had displayed distrust towards Kaidan in order to aid Miranda; even worse, she had displayed distrust towards Shepard to aid Coats and Hackett.

 

_ I understand, Tali. I would be more concerned if you trusted me than if you didn’t.  _

 

Her gaze flew upwards, her burning shame reaching her eyes as tears pooled there. So desperately she wanted to trust Shepard, but the line between him and their sworn enemy -- the Reapers -- was growing more blurry. Although they believed that Shepard now controlled the Reapers, what proof did they have? Dreams, speculation? A hope that if Shepard  _ was  _ controlling the Reapers, he would maintain that control?

 

_ I’ll show you, Tali. _

 

She let out an audible gasp as the world suddenly spun around her, the floor moving beneath her feet. Trembling hands reached out to grasp the nav console for support. 

 

_ I’ll show -- _

 

Blackness was closing in at the edges of her vision. She couldn’t faint, not here, not when --

 

_ \-- you, Tali. _

 

The floor was so cool on her knees, she could feel it beneath her suit. She felt a sudden urge to remove her mask and rest her bare cheek on it, to feel the cool tile against her skin. When did she become so tired? She felt like she hadn’t slept in days.

 

_ Tali… _

 

Perhaps she would rest, just for a moment. It was the  _ Normandy, _ it was safe. 

 

_ Tali. _

 

She was just so, so exhausted. She had been carrying so much weight on her shoulders for so long.

 

_ Tali. _

 

The floor was cool beneath her hands, too. 

 

_ Tali. _

 

And her side.

 

_ Tali. _

 

\--

 

_ Shepard lay on his side beside her, making incoherent doodles on her mask with his gun-calloused fingertip. Blue eyes bright with mirth, he was laughing at something she said; at what, she couldn’t recall. _

 

_ “I love you.” _

 

_ The words had come out of his lips so quickly, so unexpectedly, Tali wondered if he meant to say them at all. For a flash of a moment his eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly hid it with a cocky, sideways grin. He may not have intended to say the words at that exact moment, but he had been thinking them for a long, long time. _

 

_ He punctuated the declaration by drawing a human rendition of a heart on her visor. _

 

_ In return she whispered, “I love you too, Shepard.” _

 

_ The smile he returned was brighter than anything she had seen before. _

 

\--

 

Lids heavy and gummy, Tali’s eyes flickered open. No longer was she on the bed in the  _ Normandy  _ of her dream; she was on the floor of the cockpit again, cold and unyielding beneath her form. 

 

Yet Shepard was still beside her. 

 

Alarmed, she sat up quickly; the swift movement from her groggy state made her head spin and she closed her eyes while the room righted itself.

 

Shepard was still there, smiling wryly. 

 

“Hello, Tali.”

 

Through dry lips she muttered incredulously, “You…”

 

She closed her eyes and shook her head.

 

Was this real?

 

Was _ he  _ real?

 

She counted to five, swallowing the cotton in her throat. For so long she thought she had been losing her mind, listening to Shepard’s requests intruding into her thoughts, dreaming of him night after night. But to see him, in a corporeal form, right here, right now…

 

What did it  _ mean _ ?

 

Was he back? Was this another dream? Or perhaps the dream was still lingering in the corners of her thoughts, sticking in place like spiderwebs. She couldn’t succumb to false hope, not again. 

 

Shepard was  _ dead _ .

 

Shepard was  _ gone _ .

 

Not here, not now, not with her, not ever again. 

 

And when she opened her eyes again, he was gone, and that hole in her heart where he had inserted himself so long ago ached and burned like a raw wound with the scab ripped off. 

 

“Tali?” Another voice; Kaidan’s, perhaps? “Tali!” Her name in Kaidan’s voice was laced with fear and worry; his reassuring hand pressed into her shoulder. She was shivering; she hadn’t realized how cold she was until then.

 

“Are you okay?” Kaidan’s words were rushed, and when her gaze found him, his brows were furrowed in worry. 

 

“I’m fine,” she breathed, her dry throat turning her words muddled. Quickly she remembered that she wasn’t supposed to be here, and from the vestiges of her memory she pulled out a blurred lie. “I came to grab my tool bag from Engineering and I thought I saw… something.” She checked Kaidan’s expression, but no suspicion lay there, only worry. 

 

“Are you hurt?”

 

“No, no, I...think I fainted. I must need rest.”

 

Kaidan helped her up, steadying hands remaining on her shoulders. “Come on, I’ll have Private Westmoreland escort you back to the apartment. Get some rest, you sound awful.”

 

\--

 

The war had taught James that his own desires no longer took precedence. His desire for real food,  _ dios mio _ for real coffee, for a comfortable bed, for N7 candidacy… all had taken the backburner to the need to fight the Reapers. 

 

Now that the Reaper fight was over -- at least, for the moment -- he was needed elsewhere: on Earth, aiding in recovery. His raw strength and endurance made him excellent at moving heavy debris for entire days, and his leadership skills meant he had been assigned a team, with the goal of repairing a gaping hole in the side of an upper wing in the central hospital. 

 

Between the fight against the Reapers, finding a way off of Eden Prime, and rebuilding efforts, he had almost forgotten about N7 candidacy.

 

Almost.

 

Until he found himself summoned to Admiral Hackett’s office early on a misty Sunday (or at least, he thought it was Sunday; the days of the week blurred together lately). 

 

Hackett didn’t revert to pleasantries, getting straight to the point as soon as Vega snapped a salute.

 

“Lieutenant Vega, I brought you here today to discuss the N7 program.”

 

James’ knees weakened at the words, hope rising in his chest like sunlight. 

 

Hackett continued, “The galaxy is in shambles and we lost countless N7 designates during the war. We need outstanding Alliance marines more now than ever to be a paragon for our people, to help us rise from the ashes of the Reapers. And I want you to be in the first program.”

 

A lone bead of sweat cascaded down James’ forehead, but he otherwise found himself immobile. For the first time in months, he felt  _ hope _ , hope for the future, hope for  _ himself _ . He was receiving something that he had wanted for longer than he could remember.

 

Yet why did he feel that this was undeserved? That he was unready to join the ranks of the best of the Alliance, the rank of Shepard himself? Would he be able to rise up to their demands, or would he falter again, just as he had done on Fehl Prime? How could the Alliance trust a man who had let them down so badly before?

 

His doubts escaped his lips before he could stop them. “Are you certain that I’m the best candidate, sir?”

 

A faint smile brushed along Hackett’s lips. “I’m certain, Lieutenant.”

 

“But I’ve--”

 

“Fehl Prime?” Hackett interrupted. At James’ raised brows, Hackett smiled knowingly. “I’ve been debriefed. If I was in your shoes on that planet, marine, I would have done the same as you. It takes a brave man to choose the needs of the many over the needs of the few. It’s the kind of level-headed decisiveness we look for in N7 candidates.”

 

A rare emotion stirred in James’ chest, one he had pushed far down since that fateful day, one which brought with it no small amount of shame. 

 

It was pride.

 

“You’ll be training at Arcturus Station, your ship departs tomorrow at 0700 hours from Bay E34. Bring only essentials, all weapons and armour will be provided for you.”

 

Standing tall, he snapped another salute to Admiral Hackett. “I won’t let you down, sir.”

 

Vega could have sworn Hackett winked at him. “I know. Dismissed.”

 

Once outside of Hackett’s office, James stopped to listen to his heartbeat thudding in his ears. 

 

_ He was going to the N7 program. _

 

But before he did, he had two urgent matters to attend to: he had to attend Shepard’s memorial that afternoon, and he had to find Jack.


	15. Simmer

To Joker, Shepard’s memorial felt like a farce, designed to garner sympathy for the Alliance and all the sacrifices that they had to make to win the war. 

 

As if everyone else wasn’t making sacrifices.

 

The eternally dreary weather was reflecting his mood; a chilled mist was thrown into the formula today, sticking to his hat and shoulders. The ceremony was being held on a rapidly thrown together platform, and most of those who attended stood atop rubble, making for a crowd mismatched in both height and species. 

 

In what was an obvious publicity stunt, the majority of the speaking was done by the new Councilor Adell, who had ironically never actually  _ met _ Shepard. This Adell lady had made the decision not to have any of the crew members or friends of Shepard speak. She had said to them in a brief meeting beforehand that she thought it would be “too difficult” and “too emotional” to speak of their previous Commander, but Joker wasn’t an idiot. He knew exactly what her ulterior motives were.

 

She didn’t want them to let slip what the public began to suspect had happened to Shepard: he had become a controller of the Reapers. To let it slip before the Council was ready to release the information on their own terms could be a PR disaster. 

 

So in front of the thousands of all races who had gathered to pay tribute to Shepard, she did what politicians did best: lied through her teeth. She spoke of how decorated of an officer that Landon Shepard was. She listed his accomplishments -- selectively, of course, omitting those accomplishments that had been considered “undesirable” by the Council and the Alliance such as taking down the Collectors and stopping the first attempted Reaper assault on the Alpha Relay. 

 

She didn’t mention how Shepard was the best friend anyone could have asked for; how he would lay down life and limb for any of his crew members, Joker included (he had to bite back tears when he reminded himself that once, years ago, Shepard  _ had _ laid down his life for Joker). She didn’t mention that Shepard would help anyone that he could, regardless of their race, regardless of their standing in society, regardless of if it helped him in any way. Shepard was the definition of selflessness, running himself ragged and sleepless so that he could find proper rations for the cook, or find Thane’s son, or Samara’s daughter. 

 

She didn’t mention how Shepard stayed up all night drinking with Joker, keeping him laughing to help him forget about his family lost on Tiptree.

 

Sensing his agitation, EDI’s cool fingers slipped between Joker’s, gently squeezing his hand.   

 

Although the whole thing was a fucking farce, it also meant that the Council and the Alliance had given up on the thought of ever finding Shepard. He wondered if they had even tried, or if they had given him up as a lost cause after the Citadel was destroyed. 

 

Most likely, they considered Shepard more of an asset as a martyr than a soldier.

 

The thought left a bitter taste in the back of his throat and Joker wanted to leave, badly. But him and the whole crew had been thrown into the front row of this farce, and he didn’t want to deal with the sharp-tongued reparation that he’d receive from the Councilor.

 

So, feeling like a bit of an idiot, Joker cried in front of those closest to him. Not just for the loss of Shepard, but for what the loss stood for.

 

\--

 

Jack was fucking pissed, frankly.

 

Shepard was more than just a decorated soldier with a posthumous Star of Terra. He saved the fucking galaxy, almost single handedly, and it seemed like only herself and the crew seemed to recognize that fact. The Alliance and the Council were too goddamn blind to anything other than titles and medals, useless objects that would never do Shepard justice. 

 

No longer listening to the Councilor ramble, Jack hadn’t realized that the service was over until the crowd began stirring behind her. 

 

She felt no peace over Shepard’s loss. She only felt a void where the first person to give a shit about her had resided.

 

Her gaze darted over the crew, and she saw that she wasn’t the only one who felt no peace. She saw clenched jaws, balled fists, eyes that were red and misty with anger instead of grief.

 

She couldn’t stand the sight.

 

With a sigh she spun on her heel to leave as quickly as possible, before she succumbed to the urge to smack some sense into the Council and the Alliance and get herself in more trouble than she needed. Before she could leave, a warm hand found its place on her shoulder, and she spun again, her teeth bared defensively.

 

It was Vega, his expression reserved. 

 

“Got a second, Tats?”

 

She made a jerking motion between a shrug and a nod and followed him, wordlessly, out of the mess.

 

“Awful, wasn’t it?” James asked once out of earshot of the crowd.

 

Jack scoffed. “That wasn’t Shepard they were talking about. It was what they wanted Shepard to represent.”

 

Slowly James shook his head, letting out a long sigh. “Politics for you. ‘How can we lie to make ourselves look better?’”

 

Her eyes growing misty, Jack planted herself in place. She imagined how Shepard would feel about his own memorial; she imagined him giving the Council a piece of his mind before laughing with the crew over its absurdity.

 

She imagined him just  _ laughing _ .

 

Such a rich, rolling sound, one which she heard too infrequently. Shepard was always so burdened, he was rarely afforded the lightness of laughter.

 

It was a sound she would never hear again.

 

They shared so much, Jack and Shepard. Both were orphans, both were biotics, both were quick to temper. Both had a softness, buried deep down beneath layers of armour they were well-practiced in holding up. Yet Shepard had shown her what she could become if she stripped down the armour: a caretaker, someone who both loved and was loved. She had her kids now, she had responsibilities, she had a reason to  _ live _ . 

 

“Tats? Jack? You alright?”

 

She whispered, “He’s really gone.”

 

Hard, warm arms wrapped around her, at first tentatively and then firmly. Her arms snaked around James’ form in response; he smelled comforting, like cinnamon and anise, and in that moment she yearned for so many things that she couldn’t have that she began to cry, burying her face into his hard chest. Soothingly, he ran his hand up and down her spine, muttering incoherent words of comfort. Soft lips pressed tender kisses along her head, forehead, and cheeks wet with tears before they found their way onto her lips. Graciously she accepted the kiss, returning it in earnest, the sea of sorrow in her heart parting in the light of James’ kindness. There was no heat in the kiss; it was a kiss that asked for nothing more than to just be a kiss.

 

When they pulled apart, Jack found James’ expression to be conflicting and concerned. 

 

“I have to go,” he breathed, and her heart dropped. “I’m starting the N7 program tomorrow, Hackett just told me. Right now I don’t want to --” He laughed, nervously, but Jack cut him off.

 

“You liar, of course you want to.”

 

Smirking, he acquiesced. “Yeah, I do. But I’ll be back. I don’t…” He paused, his voice lowering. “I don’t expect you to wait for me. I just… want you to know I care about you, and I want you to keep in touch so I can find you when I’m back.” He flushed, deeply; she wondered the last time he had cared about anyone like this. She wondered the last time _ she _ had cared about anyone like this. 

 

“You idiot,” she growled. His face fell, and she smacked his arm. “I waited for you for three months while you and Shep saved the galaxy, and then three more while you were marooned. You think I can’t wait a little longer?” His eyes widened before a bright smile took over his features. This time when he kissed her, there  _ was _ heat, traveling from her fingertips through to her chest. 

 

His lips were still pressed against hers, their fingers interlaced, when he muttered, “I don’t have to leave until tomorrow morning…”

 

“My apartment is five blocks away.” She bit her lip, but it quickly turned to a grin when she spotted the spark in his eyes.

 

Without pause, they ran there, together, their joined laughter echoing between dilapidated buildings.

 

\--

 

Tali was beginning to wonder why she was bothering to stay on Earth.

 

Shepard’s memorial was over. She was assisting with rebuilding efforts every day, but Hackett had ensured her -- and the rest of them -- that they were welcome to return to their home planets. The Admiralty Board knew she was alive, and encouraged her to take the path that she found most suitable. She should be with her people, helping them rebuild Rannoch and a future for the quarians.

 

There was nothing for her here but rubble, soured memories, and nutrient paste. 

 

Yet she lingered. 

 

_ Because you have a connection to Shepard here. Because you worry if you leave that connection will be severed.  _

 

She was hopeless. Absolutely, utterly hopeless. She sighed, tucking tonight’s dinner -- surprise, nutrient paste! -- into her pack, and resumed her walk home. 

 

(Was it really home? Or was Rannoch? With Shepard gone, the definition of home didn’t matter as much as it once did.)

 

Although the sky was eternally hazy, she could see through the fog that the days were growing longer here. According to Kaidan, it meant that summer was approaching. Summer on Earth once meant bright skies, singing birds, and blooming flowers; after the Reapers, it meant as much grey as the spring had offered. 

 

She wondered if it was warm on Rannoch. If she would one day feel the sun on her bare skin there. If she would ever have children, children that weren’t Shepard’s, who could be among the first generation of quarians in centuries to grow up planetside. 

 

She wondered if she would ever want a family with someone other than Shepard.

 

Perhaps it was time for her to step up as an Admiral, to give her life to her career. She had accomplished so much in so few years, and she could do so much more for the quarians. Was it time to move on, to put aside the past and look forward into the future?

 

She had neared her apartment building; a few of the windows were illuminated, but most were dark. For many, their days had been split into working, sleeping, and little else. It left little time to dwell on what was lost.

 

Through the din of the dying sunlight filtered through the fog, she could spot a figure that was likely quarian leaning against the wall beside the door. As she approached, she found that his shape and the colouring of his suit was familiar.

 

_ It can’t be. _

 

_ He’s dead. I read the report. He…  _

 

“Hey, Tali.”

 

Incredulousness left her momentarily silent; when moisture returned to her mouth, Tali sputtered out, “Kal?”


	16. Vital Signs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi it's me, also known as The Worst Updater Ever.
> 
> Here's your annual chapter. Honest to goodness, I'm working on bringing some plot points together here that lead us towards some semblance of the ending so I can stop stringing y'all along on my 3-year project.

Everything felt wrong. 

 

It shouldn’t have felt wrong; the  _ Normandy _ was still the  _ Normandy  _ after all. She was still quick, sturdy, and stealthy; she still had an oversized Tantalus drive core and lithium heatsinks within the hull. The Council had arranged a full clean up of the ship, replacing all of the haphazard parts installed after their crash landing, restoring the ship to its former glory. Nothing had changed, except for the crew.

 

At the helm sat the stern and dark-haired Pilot Cook, who informed Kaidan at their first meeting, with a handshake as firm as her gaze, that she had been the top-ranking pilot in her graduating year. Cook’s co-pilot was a salarian named Jom, whose lean fingers danced over his console while he muttered to himself about heat soak and ignition coils. 

 

Kaidan’s eyes danced around the crew, working quietly and tersely at their respective stations. All of them had been assigned to the ship by the Council, and he knew none of them. 

 

Therein lied the problem: the  _ Normandy _ wasn’t home without the old, familiar crew. It was just another ship, taking him on a mission that he didn’t feel in control of. He didn’t trust a single member of the new crew, and he feared the thought of being such a liability to the Council while being stuffed into a tin can filled with strangers. 

 

“Calculating approach vector for the mass relay. Estimating time of arrival to destination at 0900 hours.” Cook’s fingers flew over the controls with practiced accuracy as she spoke, her tone as frosty as Noveria. 

 

“Thank you, Cook. I’ll be in my quarters.”

 

Swiftly Kaidan passed through the CIC; just a few months ago, he couldn’t have walked the same path without friendly waves and handshakes from crew. Now he felt positively invisible, spare a few curious or even cold glances. 

 

The elevator felt tight, too tight, constricting to his lungs and his thoughts; he closed his eyes to compose himself, reminding himself that he was their commander, and he had no reason to distrust the Council’s judgment. 

 

Except for the fact that time and time again, the Council had proved themselves untrustworthy to Shepard. And to himself, he thought, recalling Udina’s betrayal with a shiver. 

 

The doors opened to the top floor, and Kaidan immediately regretted his decision to sleep there. It was so wrong, so very wrong, being in a space that was so very  _ Shepard _ . Stepping off the elevator, his senses were assaulted with memories of his old friend: the sharp, spicy scent of Shepard’s antiperspirant; the faint glow of the always-vacant fish tank and the muted burbling of its filters; the framed photo of Tali; the model ships, lined up by preference; his personal terminal’s faint orange glow. 

 

Everywhere he looked, in every corner, he felt Shepard: his smile, his laughter, his furrowed brows, his commanding voice. 

 

Reeling, Kaidan stepped right back onto the elevator, covering his eyes and holding in a sob that rose in his chest. 

 

No. This space was not his, not now, not ever. Even the thought of someone coming up to just clean the space made him feel ill. 

 

He would stay in the Starboard Observation Lounge, he decided. Just like the old days.

 

\--

 

For the first time in his career, Kaidan took spearpoint on a Spectre mission.

 

It felt right, being there, leading, giving commands. He wished he could have chosen whom he was giving commands to, but the Council’s choices -- Asaaj, an asari vanguard, and Jax, a salarian sniper -- were respectful subordinates.

 

A balanced team of three. It was just what Shepard would have chosen, were he here instead of Kaidan.

 

As he should have been.

 

Kaidan briefly chastised himself. He had to stop comparing himself to Shepard, and he had to start carving out his own space among the Spectres, the Alliance, and the galaxy. He could look up to Shepard, yes, but he could never  _ be _ Shepard, and he would drive himself mad if he kept trying. 

 

_ Focus, Kaidan _ .

 

There was no time to dwell on such thoughts. He had to focus on the mission at hand -- rescuing the team who possessed information so sensitive the Council wouldn’t divulge it to Kaidan. 

 

For a moment, he wished he could tell Garrus that the bullshit didn’t stop when you became a Spectre.

 

“Flank the doors,” he commanded, before opening them with a flash of his omni-tool.

 

Ahead of him was only blackness. 

 

Tempest at the ready, he whispered, “Flashlights.”

 

Before he could form a coherent thought or take in the room before him, he was hit with an concussive shot, sending him flying backwards. His chest screamed with pain from the shot and he was winded, but his armour protected him from further harm so he rolled behind cover. Peeking out from cover, he assessed the room.

 

The lights had been turned on, revealing that it was a wide great hall, dual levelled with shipping containers scattered about, providing an excellent defensive position for those within. He spotted at least half a dozen Batarians, armed to the teeth.

 

Ducking under cover, he pulled up a barrier. He ordered Jax to focus on the Batarians on the second level, and Asaaj to deal with those closest to the door. 

 

_ Why Batarians? _ He mused. The majority of their species had been taken out on the first wave of Reaper attacks, there were too few of them to organize and coordinate a kidnapping of an informant. Their efforts should have been focused on repopulation and rebuilding.

 

They had to be working for someone.

 

But who?

 

There was no time to ponder, he knew, as he pulled up a Reave and launched it at a heavily armoured soldier, sending him staggering back. Kaidan advanced, hitting the soldier with a series of headshots until he collapsed. A sniper bullet whizzed past his right ear to clock a soldier on the second level between his eyes, sending him rolling over the railing like a ragdoll. Asaaj charged past him with a roar, the air beside him alight with power, before colliding with another enemy; a shotgun blast to the chest left him incapacitated. Another batarian tried to focus on Asaaj but Kaidan hit him with a strong cryo blast from his omni-tool, freezing him in place before Asaaj charged again, exploding him with a loud crack before icy body parts littered the floor. With a bang another soldier on the second floor went down, his blood seeping down to the second level from where his body collapsed. 

 

Catching his breath, Kaidan ducked behind cover, but when he rechecked the room he found it empty. “Clear.”

 

Wordlessly and efficiently, the team scoured the room for ammo before moving on. 

 

The next two rooms were equally well-fortified, with moderate groups of Batarians in well-defended positions. Asaaj and Jax, however, were skilled fighters, helping him take the groups out with minimal damage other than a surface leg would that Asaaj received that was easily remedied with a dose of medi-gel. 

 

Finally, they reached an oversized warehouse, with towering shelves filled with boxes and shipping containers scattered throughout the aisles. Immediately they were assaulted by four Batarians; Asaaj sent them scattering with a powerful shockwave, and Jax and Kaidan picked off their flying forms. Every step through the warehouse was hindered by enemies, clearly dead set on slowing their inevitable advance. 

After they cleared a group of six, very faintly Kaidan heard a woman’s voice. “Help!”

 

They had reached a junction, and Kaidan whispered into his headset “South”, sending them in the direction of the voice.

 

The warehouse immediately opened up to a wide, cavernous section. Atop the shelves Kaidan spotted two snipers; his eyes met Jax’s, who nodded slowly to acknowledge that he, too, spotted them. Four more heavily armed men framed one last batarian; he was missing two of his eyes and wielding a Graal Spike Thrower, a weapon Kaidan had only seen before wielded by the krogan and Shepard. Behind the eyeless batarian he could see a chair where a human woman was binded, facing away from him. 

 

“You were slower than I expected,” he growled, his voice deep and gravelly. 

 

“We had a lot of pawns to work through,” Kaidan sniped back.

 

“Help,” the woman whispered, before the batarian knocked the side of her head with his shotgun, silencing her. When he turned back to Kaidan, his lip was raised in a wry smile.

 

“You’re too late. We got the information we wanted. The salarian will be in our hands soon.”

 

_ The salarian? _

 

_ Our hands? _

 

What the hell wasn’t the Council telling him?

 

Regardless, he had to deal with the situation at hand. He jerked his chin at Jax, who swiftly raised his rifle and took out one of the snipers before either could blink.

 

A scuffle ensued, and Asaaj, Jax, and Kaidan slid into cover. Asaaj sent a shockwave to two of the Batarians on the ground and Kaidan froze another with a cryo blast while Jax took out the second sniper. 

 

The eyeless batarian charged forward and Asaaj fearlessly met him on the battlefield with her own biotic charge. 

 

The two were locked in a fierce battle, shotguns ablaze, while Jax and Kaidan systematically took out the others. Another batarian popped up behind them and Kaidan spun, quickly summoning a Reave to incapacitate him so that Jax wouldn’t be harmed. When the last of the Batarians before them fell another appeared from behind; Jax pulled his sidearm out and hit him with a series of chest shots, sending him reeling back. 

 

With their attention focused on the newcomers, Kaidan and Jax’s attention was pulled from Asaaj; when they were able to take them down, they turned just in time to see Asaaj get hit with a spike straight through her gut, exiting out her back with a spray of her innards. 

 

“No,” she gurgled before collapsing, trying fruitlessly to hold her insides together before she became still. 

 

The eyeless batarian stepped towards her, but before he could do more he was hit with a sniper shot to the neck, sending him to the ground. 

 

The room fell silent, the only sound a faint weeping from the hostage. 

 

Kaidan sprinted to Asaaj, falling to his knees beside her. He scanned her with his omni-tool but it was too late: there were no vital signs. “Shit,” he muttered, frustrated to lose a good soldier on his first mission.

 

For a flash he thought of Jenkins, falling on Eden Prime. It was the inevitability of command; soldiers fell, even good ones like Asaaj and Jenkins. 

 

Jax appeared beside him, closing her eyes with his two long fingers. He muttered, “We must move on,” but Kaidan could tell his heart wasn’t in it. 

 

With a long sigh Kaidan stood and approached the hostage. Gingerly he placed his hand on his shoulder and spun her chair, gasping when her identity was revealed.

 

“Oriana?”

 

She was gasping for breath and tears were flowing freely from her terrified eyes; yet when she saw him, a familiar face from their brief meeting on Horizon, she let out a sob of relief. The relief quickly vanished from her eyes, replaced by fear.

 

Why would she be afraid of him?

 

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, as he stepped behind her to release her bindings. 

 

Keeping his tone soft and soothing, Kaidan muttered, “You’re safe now. Where are the others?”

 

“Gone,” she gasped, shutting her eyes firmly. “The krogan killed them all. I tried to resist them. I tried but… they beat me and… now they’ll know.”

 

Her hands free, she rubbed her raw wrists. 

 

“Know about what?”

 

In spite of his years of training, in spite of everything Kaidan had experienced at Shepard’s side, nothing could have prepared him for the word that came out of Oriana’s mouth. He had faced down Reapers, Collectors, Cerberus, geth; he had even seen ghosts, but this was one ghost he never imagined would reemerge. 

 

“Mordin.”

 

\--

 

“Log of Mordin Solus, Experiment 487D9E. Testing if increasing Leucine levels by 0.5% will improve protein synthesis in Earth-based arachnids. Phase 7: growth monitoring.”

 

Mordin shuffled across the small lab, viewing his test subjects through measured microscopes. 

 

The work was unimportant.

 

Everything he did now was unimportant.

 

Collectors, gone.

 

Reapers, gone.

 

Shepard… gone. 

 

Had Shepard truly saved him that day? He wondered if it would have been better to die in the Shroud. To save the krogan. To give hope to a species with no hope left. 

 

But Shepard was right. The war was over. The galaxy had to find balance now.

 

Mordin could not be in that balance. He was too at risk. Even once his research was completed, it would not be released. Too risky. Too unimportant.

 

A crash, at his doorstep. His adrenaline spiked. He drew his pistol from his hip. 

 

He was almost excited. 

 

Four krogan soldiers burst through his door, assault rifles aimed at him. 

 

“We found him,” one muttered into his comm, face peeling into a grin.

 

“Drop your weapon!” Another commanded, stuffing the barrel of his rifle into Mordin’s chest. “You’re coming with us.”

 

Mordin had no choice. 


	17. Juxtaposition of Past and Present

“Tell me everything.”

 

Kal’Reegar sat before her, arms resting on her (white) coffee table, legs crossed on her floor, a half-empty drink in hand. The sight was a bizarre juxtaposition of the past and present. Tali, too, was on the floor, arms wrapped around knees pulled tight to her chest.

 

When Kal stayed quiet at first, Tali prompted, “I thought you were dead.”

 

“So did everyone. Comm channels during the war weren’t at their best.” He sighed and took a sip of his drink; some of the tension seemed to ease from his shoulders. 

 

“We were repairing a comm tower on Palaven. The squad did go down when a whole damn team of Marauders dropped on our heads. I woke up over a krogan’s shoulder.” Wistfulness painted his words as he continued. “He had pulled me out, killing almost all of the Marauders single-handed. What a fighter. With my squad gone…” He shrugged. “I decided to help out the krogan. We fought side-by-side till blue light hit the planet and the Reapers retreated. I tried to get a message to the flotilla that I was alive, but comms were so damn backed up my messages just kept bouncing back. But I was alive. I was fighting. 

 

“After the Reapers retreated,” he continued, “I couldn’t get back to the flotilla with the mass relay down. So we just fought. Picked off ground forces, helped out a few refugees, tried to get comms going again. We did what we could.” Quietly, he chuckled to himself. “I didn’t even know we took back Rannoch until a month after the war was over. As soon as the mass relay was back, the krogans gave me a ship and waved goodbye. I went home.” The last words were gentle and filled with more than a little wistfulness. 

 

Tali imagined it now: Rannoch. Home. They had a homeworld now, and she wasn’t there. She was here, on Earth, on the pile of ashes that offered nothing but the reminder of what they had lost. 

 

Kal’s words were whispered when he continued. “It’s so beautiful, Tali.” He reached out to find her hand, holding it tight within his. “I never imagined it. I never thought it would be worth it. I thought taking back Rannoch was foolish; it wasn’t.” He swallowed, and his words were strained. “Xen told me everything. It was because of  _ you _ , Tali. You and Shepard. We wouldn’t have a homeworld if it wasn’t for you. But you’re here, helping the humans.”

 

Was she? She felt more like she was helping the  _ Normandy  _ crew pick up the pieces of… whatever they had left. 

 

No. That wasn’t right. She was helping herself, holding onto the tendrils of what  _ she  _ had left. Holding onto the few pieces of Shepard that she could get her hands on. 

 

Holding onto ghosts, instead of moving forward with her people. 

 

“We’d love to have you home, Tali. We have so much left to do. We miss you.” He shifted towards her. “I miss you.”

 

She opened her mouth, searching for words that weren’t there, hunting for a justification to her absence that she didn’t even have for herself.

 

Was she so desperate for the weak promises of her dead lover that she would stay here, on Earth, where she felt she had a connection to him? 

 

Shepard leapt into her thoughts, flashing her a comfortable smile. Every moment that passed, she missed him. Was staying here, in his graveyard, just torture? Or were these… these visions, dreams, whatever they were, a  _ real  _ connection to him? She was such a fool, but she found it impossible to give up her foolish ways to take the obvious path. 

 

The rest of the crew flashed into her thoughts, the closest friends she had known through this desperate war. They had supported each other through near starvation, through mad visions, through rebuilding from desolation.

 

She thought of Garrus.

 

“I…”

 

A knock at the door interrupted her and she stood quickly, quietly grateful for the reprieve. 

 

Without checking the viewer she swung the door open, and as if summoned by her thoughts, Garrus stood there. For the first time in months he was wearing his full, heavy armour; she had nearly forgotten how broad his shoulders were, how high he held his head when armoured, how confident he appeared with a rifle strapped to his back.

 

He looked like himself again. Not the man who had been drowned in sorrow, but Reaper Advisor Garrus Vakarian, Archangel, dispenser of justice who wielded wit like a weapon in spite of the stick up his ass. 

 

She had missed him. 

 

For a moment his mandibles flared before he spoke. “Kaidan hailed us from the Styx Theta cluster. He needs to meet us on Eden Prime.”

 

“Styx Theta?”

 

Garrus nodded. “We tracked Kaidan there. At first we didn’t think he was after Oriana’s team since they were headed to the other side of the Traverse, but he hailed us only a few hours after landing. Said it was urgent.”

 

“Right. I just need to grab my weapons.” She was unsure why she would need them, but Garrus looked prepared so she knew she should be as well. With a firm nod she opened her door fully, admitting Garrus to her apartment. 

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him start as he spotted her visitor. “Kal’Reegar?”

 

Kal lifted his glass to Garrus. “Good to see you, Garrus.”

 

“You too, Kal. I thought you were dead.”

 

Laughter erupted from Kal. “You’d be surprised how often I’ve heard that lately.”

 

From her bedroom, Tali heard their conversation continuing. 

 

“Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing here?”

 

“Trying to tempt Tali to come back to Rannoch.” Kal had never been one to mince words. She felt herself stiffen at his answer; immediately she was surprised at her own reaction. Kal wasn’t doing anything wrong; in fact, he was in the right to try and bring her to Rannoch. Why was she so nervous for Garrus to think about her going back? He had to know it was a sensible path for her.

 

“Oh.” His response was laced with surprise and a little disappointment. “Of course.”

 

The room fell silent while Tali rifled through her weaponry, selecting a light loadout of a Disciple and a Scorpion, strapping them to her back and hip respectively. She exited to find Kal staring into his drink and Garrus looking anywhere but at her, his brow plates pulled tightly together. 

 

Interrupting the silence, she asked, “Do we have a ship?”

 

“No,” Garrus admitted. “I was hoping we could hire one from the docks.”

 

Standing, Kal offered, “You can take mine. It’s small, but it’ll do.”

 

“Can it fit one more?” Garrus inquired.

 

Tali turned to him. “Miranda?”

 

His gaze finally met hers, and there she found a sliver of his sorrow. “Yes. She’s outside.”

 

She wished so badly that she could wipe away that sorrow and fill his heart with laughter again. She wished she could bring him hope and happiness the way he had for her so many times before. 

 

For now, all she could offer was to stay by his side, be the friend he needed. 

 

_ Friend. _

 

“What are we waiting for?”

 

\--

 

The Shadow Broker experienced few surprises. 

 

It was part of the job to be prepared for any inevitability, regardless of how unlikely they were. 

 

A quarian ship landing on Eden Prime that day, with Garrus, Tali, and Miranda as passengers, was the first surprise she had experienced in some time. 

 

The  _ Normandy  _ landing on Eden Prime just a few hours later, with Kaidan in command, Oriana Lawson in tow, and an entirely new crew, was another. 

 

They met in the home Liara had set up in the colony. Like the other homes it was a small prefab unit; unlike the other homes, monitors and screens covered every wall and corner, the only other furniture in the main room a small bed littered with datapads and a table surrounded by hastily collected chairs. After their tearful reunion, Oriana and Miranda occupied two of the chairs, their bodies close. Javik, who had come running when the  _ Normandy  _ was spotted in the sky, occupied another. Garrus and Tali stood side-by-side, whispering amongst themselves, and Kaidan leaned against the wall in the corner, arms crossed, a frown painting his face. Kal’Reegar and one of Kaidan’s crew, Jax, stood sentinel outside. 

 

Once they were all settled, Kaidan’s eyes met Liara’s, and he asked, “Did you know about Mordin?”

 

Immediately, Liara flushed. When she spotted Oriana exiting the  _ Normandy _ , she had a feeling that was going to be the topic of their impromptu meeting. Deadpan, she responded, “I am the Shadow Broker, Kaidan.” 

 

“Mordin?” Garrus asked, his gaze dancing between Kaidan and Liara. “What about him?”

 

Kaidan’s shoulders sagged an infinitesimal amount before responding. He appeared grateful that he wasn’t the only one being kept in the dark. “He’s alive, and apparently the only ones who knew were Shepard and Liara, seeing as you can’t keep anything from the Shadow Broker.” 

 

“It was for Mordin’s safety,” Liara insisted. “If the krogan were to learn that Shepard made a deal with the Dalatrass not to cure the genophage --”

 

Tali blanched. “The genophage wasn’t cured?” She took a step towards Liara, tension wrought in her spine. Liara’s face fell as she realized by gazing around the room -- at the stiff set of Tali’s shoulders, at the tightness in Garrus’ mandibles, at Javik’s narrow gaze, at Kaidan’s crestfallen expression -- that Shepard had told none of them. To ensure they weren’t accountable, she presumed. 

 

Being the Shadow Broker meant her anonymity was the only thing protecting her from accountability. 

 

“Foolish,” Javik muttered, so quietly it had to be to himself.

 

“No,” she said with a sigh. “Shepard lied to the krogan. It was the only way to secure the alliances of both the krogan and the salarians.”

 

Without a word, Tali left the prefab. Were the doors able to slam, Liara knew that hers would have in Tali’s wake. The silence that remained was so thick it couldn’t be cut with an omni-tool. 

 

Finally Kaidan broke it, addressing Miranda and Oriana. “You knew too, both of you. You were working with Mordin.”

 

All eyes in the room turned to them. Oriana squared her shoulders and answered Kaidan’s harsh gaze. “No. Not about the genophage, at least. Only that Mordin was alive.”

 

Licking his lips, Kaidan looked away. Oriana turned to Liara instead, her brows set in a furrow. “Mordin is in danger. The batarians captured me and…” Her gaze fell to the floor and tears collected in her eyes. Miranda wrapped a comforting arm around her sister’s shoulders. “They tortured me. I held out as long as I could but… I couldn’t do it. I told them where he is.”

 

“We have to go there.” Garrus’ voice was firm. “We have to find Mordin.”

 

“Why?” Javik hissed. “It was the Commander and the salarian who started this mess. Let them finish it.”

 

His jaw set, Garrus responded, “Mordin is my friend. I’m going to find him, and any of you can come with me if you want.” 

 

“I will.” Kaidan peeled away from the wall, his movements slow and tired. “We can take the  _ Normandy _ .”

 

“I’ll go,” Oriana offered. “He wouldn’t be in danger if it wasn’t for me.”

 

“No.” Miranda was firm in her response. “I won’t put you in danger like that. Stay here, with Liara and Javik. I’ll go with Kaidan and Garrus.”

 

“It’s settled,” said Garrus, before Oriana could argue further. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”

 

\--

 

“Tali?”

 

She marched past Kal, her shoulders so tense they were almost up to her ears, her stride long and determined. 

 

Although she didn’t respond to his inquiry, he followed her anyways. “Tali? You alright?”

 

“No,” she spun to face him, her words harsh. “I’m not alright. Shepard lied to me, and…” With a sigh, she rested her mask in her hand. “I need to be alone.”

 

“Ok.” Kal was worried, but he acquiesced to her request. 

 

“I’ll be on the  _ Normandy _ .”

 

His hand balled into a fist at his side, he watched her walk away. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter? Only days later? Who am I?
> 
> Huge thanks goes to thievinghippo and saint-leona for still reading and supporting this when I'm fairly certain everyone else grew tired of my awful updating schedule.


	18. Really Big Gun

The _Normandy_ ’s drive core was almost silent; the only sound was the faintest hum, emitting enough power to run life support as well as any other essential systems while grounded.

 

Tali’s grip was tight on the surrounding railing, gazing without sight into the core’s blue depths, her mind reeling.

 

She was angry. She was hurt. Shepard had lied to her face, about something that affected all of them.

 

The conversation was still clear in her memories; they had been seated side-by-side on the couch in his quarters, his arm slung lazily around her shoulders, her legs resting over his. He told her about Wreav’s deal with the Primarch; having Eve and Mordin on the ship; Kalros, the mother of all thresher maws; the Shroud.

 

Worry had laced his features when he told her, “Mordin took the elevator up the Shroud, even as pieces were falling off with each passing moment. He couldn’t have survived up there.”

 

He had lied through his _teeth_. Was it the first and only time? Were there other times? Was she going to have to continue to learn about them the hard way?

 

She had loved Shepard so, so deeply. Frankly, she hero worshipped him. He wasn’t perfect, and she knew it: he was impulsive to a fault, he was quick to temper and too quick to kill. But she had always believed he was honest, at least with her. She valued that honesty above all else.

 

What a fool she had been.

 

Gritting her teeth, she remembered standing in this exact location with Shepard a year before. She had trusted him, bared herself to him, confessed that she would link suits with him and that she cared about him. He cared about her too, he had said, his expression earnest. But with this lie newly revealed, how could she trust anything he had said?

 

Her cheeks were wet with tears, she realized. In that moment, she felt she had aged years, her foolish youthful trust replaced with the wisdom of cynicism. Shepard had held her when she wept for her father, had kissed her mask when she mourned the loss of Legion, had held her hand at Thane’s memorial service. Together they had laughed, they had cried, they had fought, they had lost, and they had prevailed. They had shared so much over the years.

 

She still loved him, she realized, in spite of everything; yet that didn’t ease the anger or the hurt, it only made it worse.

 

_I’m sorry._

 

His voice in her head, so clear, so familiar. She cried out in frustration, her words nonsensical. How dare he intrude on her now, when she wanted only to be alone?

 

The ship had emptied out, the majority of the crew taking shore leave to drink in the small cantina the colony offered, so she didn’t feel as mad responding out loud to Shepard’s voice in her head. “Please go, Shepard.”

 

_Hear me out._

 

“No.” Her tone was as stern as she could muster. Shepard was as stubborn as always. She closed her eyes and counted to ten, willing him away, wanting to stew in peace.

 

When she opened her eyes again and looked to her right, he was _there_.

 

So this was what madness felt like: seeing your dead human lover presented before you, his form so close to corporeal except for the faint blur to his edges, like she was viewing him through dirty glass. Oh, Keelah, he was smiling that small smile, the one that set her heart affluter every time. But now it just made her heart pound uncomfortably, so loud she could hear the blood rushing through her ears. Her knees felt weak and she gripped tighter onto the railing.

 

“Hey.” That one word was so small, so intimate, it sent a shiver down her spine. That word, in that tone, had previously been reserved for right after those few times they had risked making love.

 

So many questions, so much anger, so much sadness, bubbled into her mouth, but all she could muster was a quiet, “I don’t understand.”

 

“Which part?”

 

Her eyes narrowed. “All of it.”

 

He began to pace, and his movements were so real it shocked her to her core. The way he rolled his shoulders and neck before talking, the cadence of his speech, the impatient way his hands twitched.

 

“My body is buried under so much Citadel and Crucible rubble, by the time it’s found I’ll only be identified by my dogtags.”

 

So… either the turians were right about their belief in the Spirits and she had one standing in front of her, or she had gone mad and was hallucinating. Neither thought comforted her.

 

“But I live on… through the Reapers.” His eyes -- so blue, Keelah, one of her favourite things about him -- locked on hers. “The Illusive Man was indoctrinated, but he was right about one thing: we were -- _are_ \-- able to control the Reapers.

 

“I was offered a choice. I could destroy the Reapers, I could control them, or I could synthesize man and machine. If I destroyed them, I knew another threat would appear. The geth were gone, but another race would be arrogant enough to believe that they could create and shackle AI. Or another alien race would come out of deep space to destroy us. Or the Leviathan would believe it was their right to be the apex race with the Reapers gone. What would be the purpose of the Reaper war if we never learned from it?”

 

He had stopped pacing, she realized, and her attention was raptly fixed on him. This -- all of it -- sounded like madness, but with everything they had experienced together, was it that far fetched?

 

“I couldn’t synthesize organics and synthetics,” he continued. “I’m not a god, I’m just a man. I couldn’t make that decision, I couldn’t alter every living being. It wasn’t right.

 

“But controlling the Reapers…” Slowly, he shook his head. “I could use them for good. I could incite change, real change in our galaxy. I can repair the damage the Reapers caused, I can protect against any possible threats, I can protect _you_.” A trembling hand reached forward to touch her; like a ghost, she could see the movement, but she could feel nothing.

 

_Emptiness._

 

Shepard… in control of the Reapers. They had their hypotheses, but hearing it from his mouth made the notion so real. In anyone else’s hands she would be afraid, so afraid, but she trusted Shepard. His lie, while hurtful, was done to protect the galaxy against the Reapers, and to protect both Mordin and herself.

 

But could he stay strong and resist indoctrination? Was he truly in control of them? Or was this all a trick of the Reapers, lulling them into a sense of security while taking over Shepard’s mind before they returned under his control and resumed destroying them all?

 

“How are you here?” she asked, hoping some any answers would quell her worries, knowing that nothing he would say could.

 

“I’m not _here_ , Tali. I’m an implanted projection of your thoughts.”

 

Her gaze narrowed. “You’re indoctrinating me,” she snapped.

 

“No, it’s…” he sighed and looked away. “It’s not like that. It’s like…” he waved his hands, searching for the right words, “watching a movie, but in your mind. I can show you things, I can catch a glimpse into your mind, but I won’t change anything occurring.”

 

“You’ve been working on this.” It was a statement, not a question. “Since we were on Eden Prime. In dreams first.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You said you won’t change anything. You’re capable of it, but you won’t.”

 

He hung his head, his shoulders slumping in shame. “I don’t know yet. I think so, though. I’m still figuring everything out. There wasn’t exactly a manual on ‘How to Control Reapers’.”

 

Tali loved him, so much it made her heart ache. And here he was, in her mind, reading her thoughts, projecting himself to her. In a way, she was grateful for the chance to talk to him, but his death had provided some semblance of peace for her. Grief, yes, more than enough grief, but also the chance to bid goodbye, to move on. She hadn’t moved on, but the _opportunity_ had been there. Now… she felt stuck in limbo, in love with this Reaper-controller but unable to do more than have him insert himself into her thoughts.

 

Suddenly she felt… angry again. She supposed she could understand his line of thinking, why he had decided to control the Reapers instead of destroying them, even as it sent the galaxy into a frenzy trying to pick up the pieces of the mess. But why did he feel this absurd need to protect her? She didn’t need his protection. She had taken care of herself for years when he was dead before. She was an Admiral of the fleet for Ancestors’ sake, not a swooning maiden who needed him there to watch her with his Reaper dogs.

 

She wanted him back with her.

 

But she also wanted to grieve for him and move on.

 

What she didn’t want was this in between, this mix of grief and longing, so close to having either while truly having neither.

 

When she remembered that he was firmly lodged in her thoughts, likely understanding everything she was thinking, she turned away, both ashamed and angry.

 

Before, she had treasured the connection that she felt that she shared with him through her dreams. Now, she wanted to sever it, to feel alone in her mind again. She wanted him, but she also wanted to be herself.

 

She was so confused, so torn. A war was occurring inside of her, and she just wanted it all to make _sense_ , dammit. She wanted Shepard here, alive, in person, or she didn’t want him here at all. She didn’t want this… ghost, spirit, mind-reader, Reaper-controller, thought-projector, whatever he had become. It was an intrusion into her thoughts, a violation of her independance. An involuntary growl of frustration escaped her.

 

“I didn’t want any of this to happen,” he whispered.

 

“Then why are you here?” she hissed, her response more sharp than she had intended. Did she have a right to be angry with him for his decision? Shouldn’t she be grateful to have these moments with him, to have him here at all? But she found that she couldn’t be; she was too angry with him for his intrusion, for his lie.

 

Softly, he responded. “I wanted to apologize. For lying to you, about Mordin. About the genophage. I didn’t want you to get involved in the whole mess and have the krogan come after you.”

 

“Shepard, I followed you. I’ve been at your side for years, trusting you. The decisions you made reflected on me, too, whether you wanted to protect me or not.”

 

She took a deep breath, bracing herself. Trying to calm down. Shepard wasn’t perfect, and knowing that, she shouldn’t be so upset with him for making mistakes. He was just one man with the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, trying to do what he thought was right.

 

Echoing her thoughts, in a tired voice he said, “I was trying to do what was right. Always. But when you’re stuck between shit and shit, someone will get hurt. I’m sorry it was you.”

 

“I loved you.” Fixed on him, her gaze was steel, but tears still filled her eyes. “Keelah, I still love you.”

 

He turned to her, trembling, his brows furrowed. His bright eyes were misty. “I love you, too. But I want you to move on. Find someone else, or be alone, just… don’t linger on me.”

 

“I want to,” she snapped. “I’ve been trying to. But I think about you, every moment of every day. I love you so much and that won’t just… go away because you want it to.”

 

She reined herself in; her emotions were taking control again, everything felt so muddled she didn’t know what to think. For so long she had imagined a life with Shepard, growing old with him, living in a small house with a garden on Rannoch, adopting young quarians and guiding them to their Pilgrimage together. She hadn’t imagined a life with anyone else, expending her thoughts since his death grieving for that lost life. She was unable to just… turn away from that dream, or turn it into the same dream with someone else. It wasn’t that easy; it was never that easy.

 

And then it hit her.

 

_Garrus._

 

Shepard had been pushing her towards Garrus. He had intruded into her thoughts, driving her towards him.

 

“Garrus,” she whispered. “You were guiding us together.” She wasn’t angry, not quite. Garrus had needed her help, but Tali hadn’t needed Shepard to push her to help her friend. And she surely didn’t need him to determine her romantic interests for her. It felt manipulative.

 

Shepard’s shoulders lifted noncommittally. “He’s my friend and I care about him. He needed your help, that empathy of yours that I love so much.”

 

“Ancestors, Shepard. For both of our sakes, stop fucking interfering.” Tali never swore, but she was tired, so tired, that it felt like the appropriate thing to do. Jack would have been proud.

 

Suddenly, she wanted to sleep for hours, and she wanted it to be dreamless. She pushed off of the railing and began walking away from the gentle hum of the drive core.

 

“Have you… showed yourself, or whatever it is, to anyone else?”

 

“No,” Shepard responded gently.

 

She turned to face him, to say goodbye, but Shepard was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Garrus left the meeting as soon as he could. He was angry with Shepard, yes; but mostly, he was worried about Tali.

 

Without a prompt, Kal informed him, “She’s gone to the _Normandy_.” He stalked over there quickly, rolling out the knots in his shoulders from working in his armour again. It felt right to be wearing it, but Spirits he almost forgot how heavy it felt after a long day.

 

The ship was parked on the fringes of the colony, ostentatious in its familiarity. Almost every good memory he had in the past five years had been on that ship; he had fallen into step with himself on that ship, stowed away his anger, resentment, and hot-headedness to truly do good. The _Normandy_ had become more of a home than Palaven or the Citadel had ever been. He took in a deep breath when he stepped aboard, filling his nostrils with the smells of oil and ozone.

 

On entry, he peered into the cockpit; a human and a turian female were seated side-by-side, their conversation quickly stopping when he stepped in.

 

“Garrus Vakarian,” he said in way of introduction, holding his hand out to first the human, then the turian.

 

“Schuyler Cook, pilot,” the human offered; the turian, “Talla Syndis, chief engineer. It’s an honour to meet you, sir.”

 

“Syndis… was it you who transferred EDI’s functions fully to her mobile platform so she can operate more independently?”

 

A small smile answered his query. “It was. Only when necessary; we want to retain her full _Normandy_ functions when she’s short-range, but now she can stay on Earth or otherwise planetside when the ship is offshore.”

 

“Impressive work. I look forward to working with you both.” He spun and left, eager to seek out Tali.

 

She had to be furious. Garrus remembered sitting with her in the Port Cargo hold after she had returned permanently to the ship, drinking until an embarrassingly late hour while they shared stories of Mordin, Thane, and Legion, all friendships extinguished too early. She had told him about Mordin’s talk of “interspecies intercourse” with her, and together they laughed until they cried.

 

The first place Garrus checked was engineering; when the door opened to the fourth floor, Tali was there, waiting for the elevator, shoulders slumped and head bowed.

 

“Tali.” Her name in his voice was laced with relief.

 

“Garrus.” Her response was gentle, and hesitant. So badly he wanted to speak to her, to discuss the ‘elephant in the room’ as Shepard would call it as she stepped onto the elevator with him. But he observed the way she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes; the tension that she pulled from her shoulders and placed onto her back and neck; the way she wrung her hands together, like she was nervous to be with him.

 

On a whim, he pressed the button for the third floor. With her eyes closed, Tali didn’t notice, just stayed quiet.

 

As the door opened, he told her, “Come with me.”

 

Wordlessly she followed. Swallowing down the fluttering heartbeat that rose in his throat, he took her hand and guided her towards the main battery; it felt loose in his. As soon as they reached the battery he let go, and she followed him in.

 

“That new engineer, Syndis? I think she’s been messing with the calibrations on the Thanix Cannon.” He paused nervously when she shot him an incredulous look. “When I was frustrated or worried -- about Sidonis, the Reapers, my family -- calibrating the cannon always helped take my mind off of it. Maybe…” His shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “Maybe it will do the same for you. If not, I’ll be right outside in the mess if you want to talk.”

 

With that, he turned on his heel and left. He poured himself a drink and took a seat at the nearest table, starting work on a requisition for turians still stationed on Earth.

 

Tomorrow… tomorrow they would discuss Shepard, and retrieving Mordin.

 

But for today?

 

Sometimes, you just need to calibrate a really big gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene between Shepard and Tali is something I envisioned from when this story came into my head over three years ago.  
> But it's funny how characters take on a form of their own without you. When I first imagined it, I thought the reunion would be tearful, and Tali would only be grateful to see him -- the anger came as a surprise to even me.  
> Chapter 19 is still forming in my head and isn't quite as clear, so I don't expect as prompt of an update. But I still have so many ideas to get down on paper, I'm really doubtful it's going to take as long as some of the previous updates have.  
> Huge thanks to everyone who's still reading.


	19. Shepard's Fallacies

Tali was unsure how long she remained working in the battery; time seemed to pass more quickly when she was occupied with calculations and optimizations, even when she knew the work was menial and, frankly, useless. But Garrus was right: it helped. 

 

While she worked, on occasion, she let her mind wander towards deciding what in the name of the Ancestors she was going to do with herself. 

 

But no matter how many circles she spun and excuses she made for herself, the answer was so obvious that she knew that there was nothing she should do other than finally move in the right direction. Away from stagnation. Away from Shepard.

 

It hurt to think of distancing herself from him. Even when he was dead, he had been such a large part of her life, a broad talisman she had carried through finishing her Pilgrimage; through the loss of her father; through her promotion to Admiral; through countless battles and a war and taking back Rannoch. But being stagnant while she waited for him to come back from the dead (and in spite of what she had seen yesterday yes, he was dead, it was about damn time she accepted it) was only driving her mad. She felt like a shadow of herself, bowed down by the lapping waves of chasing after a long-gone Shepard. 

 

When the time had come that she was satisfied with the Thanix, she exited the battery; at the end of the hall she spotted Garrus, cheek down on the table, datapad on the table just out of finger’s reach, his shoulders slowly rising and falling with sleep. 

 

At that moment, she couldn’t recall if she had ever seen Garrus sleep. He was a man always moving, always working, always thinking; she never perceived him as peaceful, or able to let his guard down enough to sleep. Perhaps it was a sign that he slept too infrequently over their years of acquaintance, or perhaps it was a sign that he was another man who, like Shepard, she viewed as ‘larger than life’ as the humans called it. Which would be a sensible answer, really; he was Archangel, a Senior Reaper Advisor, a C-Sec officer; he could shoot the head of a mech off from 100 yards and make you laugh while he did it. 

 

But as she saw him there, appearing small even in his bulky armour, she remembered that he was just a turian, too. One who, like her, followed Shepard to find purpose; who, like her, lead and then lost his team; who, like her, too easily became awkward and uncomfortable.

 

Leaning against the door of the battery, she let out a quiet sigh. Keelah, this was going to be hard. 

 

She approached him slowly, pausing when he began to stir. Blinking through gummy eyes he searched the room, his mandibles spreading when he spotted her there. 

 

Too often she wished things could be different. 

 

“Garrus…” 

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

 

“No, no, it’s ok, I…” She rubbed her hands together; old habits die hard. She swallowed, but knew she had to spit out her thoughts. 

 

“Garrus, I’m going back to Rannoch.”

 

His mandibles pulled tight, tight, tight to his face, but he managed to keep the gaze that was fixed on her neutral. Gently he responded, “Oh,” before adding, slightly louder, “of course.”

 

“It’s just that, it’s my homeworld and --”

 

“Of course, your people need you, you weren’t expected to stay on Earth forever, and --”

 

“-- I’ve been a terrible Admiral, I haven’t even been with my people --”

 

“-- we worked so hard to get your homeworld back, and then you left to fight the Reapers and stay with Shepard, and now he’s gone --”

 

“-- I won’t stay permanently.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Just for now.”

 

For just a fraction of a moment, silence permeated the room, turning the air dense. 

 

Garrus quickly interrupted it when he said, “We’re heading out this morning to find Mordin. Do you want to join us or… or leave now?”

 

“I’m going to speak to Kal. I’d… rather leave now. It’s not… I care about Mordin, it’s just…” 

 

“It reminds you of what Shepard did. I get it.” 

 

She was trembling. This was the right thing to do, and she knew it. So why did this feel so  _ wrong _ ?

 

Seized by an impulse, she took a step towards Garrus; hope filled his bright blue eyes, and she felt so guilty in that moment for leaving him. He needed her and she had promised to stay by his side, and now she was following her own desires. But it was the right thing to do, she knew it, and sometimes the right thing to do  _ hurt _ ; and for that reason, she followed her impulse. She bent down until their faces were level; knowing she would regret it tomorrow when her nose was stuffed and she was coughing and her chest was congested, she released a booster into her suit before reaching up to remove her mask. The air in the Normandy was thin, sterile, and vaguely septic, but it was more fresh than anything she had breathed since Rannoch. Closing her eyes, she rested a hand on his shoulder to hold herself steady as she pressed a gentle but lingering kiss to his scarred cheek; beneath her touch, he sighed, his tension seeming to abate. 

 

Just as quickly as the moment started it ended; she latched her mask back on, whispered, “Goodbye, Garrus,” and left the Normandy. 

 

The moisture in her eyes was from the sickness already setting in. 

 

It had to be.

 

* * *

 

Through the viewport of the  _ Normandy _ , Miranda watched Eden Prime grow smaller beneath them with pursed lips. Deep in her gut, she felt that they would be unsatisfied with the results of this sojourn, but she also knew it had to be done. 

 

“What are our coordinates?” the new pilot, Cook, asked her. 

 

Miranda felt the heat of Kaidan’s and Garrus’s collective gazes at her back. “Sol system, planet Neptune, Triton research facility.”

 

Kaidan bristled. “Sol system? Why there?”

 

Maintaining her posterity with a tight spine and a cool gaze, Miranda turned to the Spectre. Since finding Oriana, she felt so much more like herself again, and it was so easy to put up the defensive barriers The Illusive Man had taught her all those years ago. “It was Councilor Adell’s suggestion. The facility was abandoned in the Reaper attack, and she thought being in Alliance space would keep him safe.”

 

Kaidan met her cool gaze with his own calculating one. “Meeting in the conference room in ten. You too, Garrus.”

 

Prior to the meeting, Miranda decided she would drop off her few possessions in her quarters; for a moment, she was unsure if she would still be able to use her old XO’s quarters, but when she checked them they were vacant except for a few additional wires and blank screens. But it wasn’t just the lack of decorum that made the room felt empty; it felt as if it had been decades, not barely more than a year, since she had last graced this room, since she had worked with Shepard and Cerberus against the Collectors. In so many ways she was the same woman as she had been then, but she had also changed to someone who, at times, she didn’t recognize. Someone who had seen so much that her walls had crumbled. Who had lost a father, a father figure, and a trusted family friend, all to the machinations of Cerberus, and too many friends (when it was only a year ago that she considered herself to have friends at all) to the Reapers. All she had left now was Oriana, and when she thought she had lost her yet again, it had been too much to bear. This room… it reminded her so much of the part of herself she had been before all that had been lost. She used to be so fulfilled in life, so purpose-driven, and now? Now she had leapt at a chance to chase a ghost because it gave her a reason to _be_.

 

Now was not the time to contemplate her place, however. Now was the time to act.

 

She left her quarters and weaved her way into the conference room to find Garrus and Kaidan were waiting for her in silence. 

 

Kaidan was a man she knew little of, beyond his history with Shepard and the short interactions in Shepard’s old apartment on the Citadel. However, she respected him deeply for going in and rescuing Oriana. And Garrus? Well, they had never exactly seen eye-to-eye on the SR-2. He was Shepard’s man, through and through, occasionally skirting the law and always expressing a thinly veiled dislike for Cerberus. Not that she could blame him, in retrospect, but that thinly veiled dislike was often directed at her for her close associations to the group until the war. In spite of that, he always watched her six and never betrayed her, so at very least she could trust him. 

 

Cutting straight to the point, Kaidan fixed his watchful eyes on her when she entered, and leaning on hands gripped to the desk, asked her, “Miranda, what exactly were you, Oriana, and Mordin researching together? I know it had to do with Shepard and the Reapers, but give me specifics.”

 

Her mouth tightened into a thin line. If Kaidan didn’t know already, then the Councilor had kept it from him for a reason; yet at the moment, her loyalty lied more with Kaidan and Garrus than it did with the shiny new human councilor, who at times reminded her a little too closely of the version of herself who oversaw the Lazarus Project. 

 

“Garrus, have you checked the room for bugs?” she asked. 

 

His answer was deadpan. “Of course I did.”

 

“Right.” She crossed her arms, and began. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, Kaidan, but I oversaw the Lazarus Project. I brought Shepard back from the dead.” He nodded in acknowledgement, and she continued. “Shepard came to me in pieces, and I put him together like a grotesque puzzle. I know his inner workings better than anyone. 

 

“Six weeks ago, Councilor Adell approached me with a confidential project. Say what you will about her, but the woman has an extensive information network. She explained to me what you had all ascertained about Shepard taking control of the Reapers and she told me that Mordin was alive.” 

 

Garrus’s gaze, always unsettling in how piercing and predatory it could be, narrowed. “So, she recruited you to… what? Verify that Shepard was controlling the Reapers?”

 

Miranda sighed. “Not exactly. She was also aware of my ties to The Illusive Man. She needed myself -- and Mordin -- to see if any of Shepard’s cybernetic implants could have been used by either The Illusive Man or the Reapers for the purposes of indoctrination.”

 

His mandibles flickered. “She thinks that he was indoctrinated into controlling the Reapers and allowing them to live.” She gave a perfunctory nod of affirmation. 

 

“I get where she’s coming from. We’ve all been asking ourselves the same question.” In a mirror of an action Miranda had seen Shepard take before, Kaidan pushed himself off of the table before continuing. “We can’t trust the Reapers, or Cerberus, and we know they’re capable of indoctrination. But we can trust Shepard. Or, at least,  _ I _ can. And he hasn’t done anything hostile; he helped us rebuild the relays, and he saved the Normandy crew.” 

 

“I’m aware,” Miranda responded. “But we’re venturing into uncharted territory. Isn’t it wise to cover all of our bases and ensure that the Reapers won’t come back, controlled by an indoctrinated Shepard?”

 

Garrus crossed his arms. “So you recruited Oriana, and the three of you began your research. What were you checking through and what did you find?”

 

The old cop side of him was coming out again. “We went through all my notes on the Lazarus Project. We tried to track down any notes from The Illusive Man but came up empty. Unsurprising, frankly; he always excelled at covering his tracks. But we had barely scratched the surface when Oriana left to investigate the lead. It takes more than six weeks to go over two years’ worth of work with a fine-toothed comb.” 

 

“So… nothing?” Kaidan asked.

 

“No.”

 

His tongue darted out to moisten his lips. “I think that’s why the Councilor didn’t give me any details of the search and rescue mission. ‘Need to know basis’, she said. I’m too close to Shepard.”

 

Miranda knew he was right. She had worked beside Shepard for months, but she never considered herself to be ‘close’ to him. They were just too different, seeming to butt heads on every encounter. But they begrudgingly accepted each other, and he brought her on many missions against the Collectors, openly admiring her abilities. 

 

Their strictly professional -- even calling it friendly would be too familiar -- relationship made Miranda the perfect candidate to research what those closer to Shepard wouldn’t want to admit. And in addition to his incredible intelligence, Mordin was a professional in every capacity, which made him an ideal research partner. 

 

She had to be curious just who was feeding all this information to Adell. Or had Shepard become such a part of the spotlight that even the nature of his relationships with his subordinates had become public knowledge? 

 

She was drawn back to the table when Kaidan continued to speak. “So, why Triton for Mordin?”

 

“It kept him close enough to remain under Alliance protection, even if they weren’t aware he was there, while keeping him away from watchful krogan eyes on Earth where Oriana and I were. With comm buoys restored, it was easy for us to maintain communication while we worked.” 

 

Slowly Kaidan nodded, appearing as satisfied as he could be with her answers, for now. “Consider this meeting adjourned, then. We’ll reconvene to discuss tactics 30 minutes prior to landing.”

 

* * *

 

Trust was a sickness which had pervaded the modern races and made them weak.

 

Loyalty and trust were to be  _ earned _ , not given freely. When they were, it only lead to devastation.

 

How had Shepard’s followers not learned that after Cerberus? After Brooks? Were they truly so naive that they would place their trust, again and again, in those that would turn around to bite them?

 

They all trusted Shepard. They trusted him -- believed in him -- enough to simply accept that he was controlling the Reapers, as opposed to the other way around.

 

Foolish. Positively foolish. 

 

Javik was angry, so angry, that Shepard had not destroyed the Reapers as he had promised. Shepard had lied to Javik as he had lied to his compatriots and the krogan about the genophage cure. Once, Javik had made the mistake of trusting Shepard, of believing that they were not so different in spite of the 50,000 years that separated them -- both were born soldiers, forged in the fires of suffering, existing with the sole purpose of destroying the Reapers. Javik knew better now, knew that Shepard was weak to influence and a fool for believing the Reapers’ false promises.

 

Perhaps it was those very friends who trusted him that made him weak to the Reapers influence. Or his love for the quarian. 

 

Whatever it was… there was little Javik could do to change matters. He and Shepard combined could take down the Reapers, but he alone against Shepard, with Shepard’s whole crew at his back blindly trusting him?

 

Javik never stood a chance.

 

So he went to the only place that seemed even close to home: Eden Prime. Between searching for any traces of his people -- any hope that another may linger -- he granted Liara her interviews, knowing at very least he could leave behind the Prothean’s legacy in this cycle, even if it soon would be turned to ash. 

 

While he lingered, he observed. Liara, mostly; through her networks, many secrets of the galaxy were opened to him, and nothing was a surprise for him any longer. But this human -- this Oriana --  _ was  _ a pleasant surprise for Javik, even though she was a clone. Unlike the others, she had not been blinded by a love for Shepard. Like him, she distrusted the Reapers, believing they could have a hold over Shepard. 

 

Oriana was on a comm with her sister, talking them through the schematics Liara had pulled up of the facility they were infiltrating. 

 

“No, don’t bother with the door on the left, that’s a closet. Try the door on the right.”

 

Miranda’s response buzzed over the comm.  _ “Empty.” _

 

“Alright, go to the end of the hallway. The door straight leads to what looks like a ration cupboard, but there’s another hallway through the door on the left. That hallway will fork into the living quarters and the lab.”

 

After a pause, it was Garrus who spoke. “ _ My scans are coming up negative for lifeforms. _ ” 

 

Oriana sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Just… check. For me. The closet and the cupboard too, please.” 

 

Nearly ten minutes of silence followed before Miranda’s voice rang over the comm again. “It’s empty. There are no signs of him. He’s gone.”

 

Javik sneered before standing up and walking away. For a fly-eater, Mordin had been a good man. Now, he was another victim to Shepard’s fallacies. 

 

* * *

 

The new pilot, Cook, hailed Kaidan as soon as they stepped back onto the  _ Normandy _ .

 

“Two messages at your terminal, sir, both marked urgent.”

 

Quickly Kaidan left for his terminal, situated where Traynor’s old terminal used to be. 

 

One message was from Councilor Adell, and the other was from Jacob. 

 

He read the message from Adell first.

 

_ Major Alenko, _

 

_ Report back to Earth immediately. Meet me in my office for an urgent meeting. _

 

_ Councilor Adell _

 

Whatever it was… nothing good came out of an urgent meeting. Especially so shortly after his meeting with Miranda and Garrus, and his failure to report back to her after retrieving Oriana. 

 

But what was done was done. He opened Jacob’s message next.

 

_ Kaidan, _

 

_ I hope you have Earth in your plans, because there’s something here you need to see. I’m at St. Thomas’ hospital in the maternity ward. See me when you can. _

 

_ Jacob _

 

That couldn’t be good either; Kaidan barely knew Jacob, so it had to be a matter that didn’t directly concern the man. It had to involve someone else. 

 

His strides long, he marched back to the bridge. 

 

“Cook? Take us back to Earth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy... I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Let's alternatively title it "lots of internal monologues" or perhaps "unnecessarily presented in four POVs".


End file.
